


Chosen Girl

by AnimationNut



Series: Chosen Girl [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Siblings, Because you know the Dursleys, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Child Abuse, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Originally written in 2011, Potter Twins, Pro Severus Snape, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimationNut/pseuds/AnimationNut
Summary: Charlotte Potter is the Girl-Who-Lived. Flanked by her new friends, Charlotte experiences her very first adventure at Hogwarts.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Chosen Girl [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820644
Comments: 40
Kudos: 80





	1. The Girl-Who-Lived

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

A hard, insistent pounding on her cupboard door roused Charlotte Potter from a deep slumber. The roar of a motorbike still echoed in her ears, though no one in their neighbourhood owned one, and there was still a flash of green light lingering in her sleep-hazed vision. Shoving the wool blanket off her thin, lanky body, Charlie sat up and scrubbed at her eyes until the blurriness dissolved.

_Geez. Another weird dream._

“Wake up, girl! It’s time for you to make breakfast!” snapped Petunia from the other side of the small square door. “You won’t keep Dudley waiting on his special day!”

The ten-year-old rolled her bright green eyes. In the Dursley household, every day was a special day for her cousin as far as she was concerned. Her aunt and uncle always gave him everything he wanted. The only difference was that he got twice as much stuff on his birthday.

“I’ll be right out!” she called.

“You should have been up already!” her aunt said irritably.

“I don’t exactly have an alarm clock in here.”

“Don’t get snippy with me. You have five minutes or else.”

Charlie got into a kneeling position, careful not to bang her head off the low ceiling. She wrestled a T-shirt and a pair of jeans out of the box stuffed in the corner. They were both far too big for her but the Dursleys didn’t see any reason to buy her new clothes. They thought Dudley’s hand-me-downs were more than enough.

If she had been Dudley’s height and weight, she wouldn’t have too many complaints. But Dudley was fat and she wasn’t. The shirt hung off her like saggy elephant skin and she had to loop his old belt twice around her waist in order to secure the jeans to her body.

She took the elastic that was wrapped around her wrist and used it to tie up her long raven hair. Her bangs covered her most unique feature—the lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead. She nudged open her bedroom door and stepped into the front hall, the floorboards creaking under her bare feet.

She supposed a cupboard under the stairs wasn’t technically a bedroom, but it was as close as she was going to get for the time being. She scratched at a new spider bite on her arm and shuffled her way into the kitchen, where her only living relatives were gathered.

Charlie knew her parents had died in a car crash when she was a baby. But that was all she knew about them, as it was the only question Petunia and Vernon were willing to answer. Anything else sent them into a foul mood. She learned pretty quickly not to mention her parents. Whoever they were, Petunia and Vernon disliked them immensely. She could only guess that was the reason why they disliked her. She often wondered what had occurred to make Petunia hate Lily, her sister and Charlie’s mother, so much.

“Are you going to stand there like a useless lump or are you going to start on the bacon?”

Vernon’s voice jolted Charlie out of her thoughts. She went over to the stove and grabbed a frying pan. She opened the package of bacon and tossed it into the pan, where they soon started to sizzle.

As she absent-mindedly pushed the meat around with a spatula, she said, “Happy birthday, Dudley.”

“Did you get me a present?” he demanded, turning away from the small television resting on the table to glare at the back of her head.

She didn’t get an allowance. But she did manage to earn a little bit of money raking leaves and doing odd-jobs for the neighbours. Her aunt and uncle usually hated it when she interacted with their neighbours, thinking she would soil their image. They probably would have put a stop to it if she didn’t use the money to pay for necessary items like school supplies. Dudley’s torn and ripped binders just didn’t cut it, and the less they had to spend on her the better. 

She was currently saving up for an alarm clock, but a chunk of her earnings had been used to buy Dudley a stash of comic books. She wasn’t required to get him a birthday present. They certainly never acknowledged her birthday. And not once in her short life had she seen a single Christmas present. But she didn’t mind. She lived with the Dursleys long enough to stop taking things personally. 

“Yeah,” she answered. “It’s in the pile.”

“It better not be a garbage gift,” said Dudley with a scowl.

Her shoulders lifting in a shrug, she replied, “I guess that’s up to you.”

Eventually she finished making breakfast and Charlie scooped the bacon, eggs and sausages onto four plates. Aware of Vernon’s intense stare she made sure she had the least amount of food on hers. She set them on the table and lowered her plate into her lap. Petunia was bringing the presents from the living room to set in the center of the table. As Dudley’s eyes locked onto each brightly-wrapped package, Charlie prepared herself for the outburst.

When the last present was carefully set down, Dudley frowned. "There’s only thirty-six presents here.”

"Thirty-seven,” corrected Charlie. She grunted when Vernon cuffed the back of her head. “What?” she defended against his accusing scowl. “I didn’t touch anything.”

But Dudley didn’t seem to care about the possibility that she had touched his precious gifts. “That’s less than last year!” he cried. “How could you do this to me?”

_That’s more than I've ever gotten in my whole life,_ thought Charlie, dropping a piece of bacon into her mouth.

At the great tears that built in her son’s eyes, Petunia rushed to put a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Don’t cry, Duddikins! I’ll take you to the toy store and you can pick out three more.”

Dudley furrowed his brow as he tried to work it out. "So that’ll be…”

"Forty," supplied Charlie, letting out a startled hiss when Vernon cuffed her again.

"That’s better,” said Dudley in satisfaction.

Most of the morning was spent watching Dudley open his gifts. Wrapping paper littered the tiled floor and gleaming, shiny new toys surrounded his chair. Dudley came across Charlie’s gift, wrapped in old newspaper. When they all glared at her, Charlie held out her hands defensively.

“You wouldn’t give me any wrapping paper!”

“Of course not! You didn’t purchase it,” snapped Vernon. “You should have gone to get some yourself! I know you have some money. You weeded Mr. Travers’ garden two days ago.”

“What am I going to do with a whole roll of wrapping paper?” asked Charlie in exasperation.

Dudley let out a derisive scoff. He was tempted to toss it right in the trash, but his greedy nature won out. He tore off the paper to reveal the colourful covers of brand-new comic books. Though Dudley didn’t read, his friends collected them, and the issues Charlie had gotten him his friends did not have.

“At least it’s better than last year’s,” said Dudley snidely, tossing them to the floor.

The gift she had gotten him last year was a themed notebook, based off of his favourite television show. She knew it was stashed in his nightstand table, the pages filled with doodles. She sometimes came across interesting things when she snooped around the house when her relatives left her alone.

The trill of the phone cut through the air and Petunia hurried to answer it. She returned a minute later, ire on her features. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” she said grimly. “Mrs. Figg is laid up at home, nursing a broken leg. I knew hoarding all those cats would just bring her trouble.”

Though initially relieved she wouldn’t have to spend an afternoon covered in cat hair and eating stale cookies, Charlie frowned in concern. “Will she be okay?”

Ignoring her, as they often did, Petunia and Vernon worked to think of an alternative solution. “We could give Marge a call,” suggested Vernon.

Charlie could feel her breakfast start to creep back up. _No, no, I’d much rather be babysat by Mrs. Figg. Anyone but Aunt Marge._

"Don't be silly. Marge hates the girl," Petunia dismissed.

_Well, I'm not fond of her either. The last time she visited her stupid dog ran me up a tree._

"I can just stay here," she offered. It wasn't often she got to stay home alone, and not because she technically wasn’t old enough. The Dursleys didn’t trust her, as they thought she tampered with their stuff while they were out. They weren’t wrong. She was already envisioning the shows she could watch in peaceful silence.

But Petunia dashed her hopes by saying, “And make a mess of my beautiful house? I think not!”

_What exactly do they think I'm capable of?_ Charlie thought irritably. _They’ve left me alone before and everything was fine._

Well, maybe not completely fine. She did break a vase once. She’d been playing one of Dudley’s video games and had gotten frustrated with a difficult level. The lavender porcelain just shattered without her touching it. She had expected them to completely flip when they got home, but Vernon merely shunted her to her cupboard when she explained what happened, his round face rather pale. 

Horrified by the prospect of his cousin tagging along on his birthday celebration, Dudley burst into tears. “Nooooo! I don’t want her to come!”

Tears usually got him what he wanted but on this rare occasion it didn’t work. As Petunia tried to calm her son, Vernon sent Charlie a hard look. “You will do nothing to ruin his day,” he growled. “You will stay quiet and stay in line. Do you hear me?”

“Yes sir,” answered Charlie promptly.

Spending time with her relatives was unappealing but she’d never been to the zoo before. If she stayed out of their way the day shouldn’t go too horribly. She didn’t know why Vernon thought she would attempt to spoil Dudley’s birthday. Even if they treated her birthday as nonexistent, she wasn’t vindictive.

What could possibly go wrong?

...

Piers Polkiss had been Dudley’s best friend for as long as Charlie could remember. Charlie didn’t have any friends. Her classmates were scared off by Dudley, who was determined to make her life miserable. He and his gang took joy in chasing her but they never quite managed to catch her. She was too fast for them.

She once appeared on the school’s roof when she’d been running across the field as she tried to escape them. The caretaker heard her pounding on the roof’s door and rescued her. Vernon came to pick her up and he had the same expression on his face as the day he heard how the vase had broken.

_Smack!_

Charlie grunted as her face slammed into the glass window. Dudley held her there, snickering as Piers pulled on her hair. In an attempt to ignore them she stared out the window, watching the cars blur past. As a motorcycle roared by, she remarked unthinkingly, “I dreamt about a flying motorcycle last night.” 

Her head jolted and cracked against the window once again as Vernon slammed on the brakes. Ignoring the angry blast of the car horn behind him, he whirled around. “Flying motorbikes aren’t real!” he barked, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

Utterly bewildered by this reaction, Charlie replied, “I know. It was just a dream.”

“Don’t say anymore about it,” said Vernon tightly.

The car continued on its way and Charlie had half a mind to mention the strange green light that always flashed before her eyes in slumber. But the other half of her mind told her it would be a very stupid idea. Eyeing the back of Vernon’s head, Charlie frowned.

_Okay…that was odd._

She didn’t get much time to dwell on it, for they arrived at the zoo. Dudley and Piers raced ahead, shoving their way through the crowd. Charlie shuffled behind them, keeping her distance as they wandered from exhibit to exhibit. She peeked at the information plaques while Dudley and Piers called out rude things to the animals in their pens.

Halfway through the day they stopped by an ice-cream cart. Piers and Dudley got triple-scoop cones and before Petunia could usher them away, the lady turned to face Charlie.

"What will you have, dear?" she asked kindly.

Eyes wide, Charlie darted her gaze to her uncle. Though his eyes were narrowed in displeasure, he gave a curt nod of the head. Slightly tempted to make him splurge on another triple-scoop, her logical side won and she chose the safe route.

"I’ll have the lemon ice-lolly please.”

It was the cheapest treat on the menu and Vernon looked less put out as he handed over some coins. “Thanks," she said, taking a lick and enjoying the sweet and sour flavour.

"Don't get used to it," he said gruffly.

Their next destination was the reptile house. Dudley and Piers hammered on the glass of the habitat of a large python, trying to make it move. But the python wasn’t cooperating and the two boys eventually slunk off.

Shaking her head, Charlie approached the glass. “Sorry about that. But on the bright side, I’m sure he’s the worst you’ll see today. And you don’t have to live with him.”

The snake slowly rose up, its eyes staring directly at her. It tilted his head and nodded. Blinking, Charlie wondered if she was imagining things. The snake was still peering at her, almost in sympathy.

_I've gone mad._

The snake jerked its head toward Dudley, who was now harassing a different snake. Having a good idea of what it was wondering, Charlie shrugged. "It’s not horrible. I find ways to make it through.” She peeked at the sign next to the glass. “I see your species is native to Brazil. But you were born in captivity. Does that mean you’ve never been?”

The snake gave a somber shake of its head.

_I'm talking to a snake._

It was utterly absurd. But she didn’t get a chance to properly process the situation. The second Dudley noticed the python moving, he lumbered over and shoved her out of the way. “Piers, come here! The stupid thing is finally moving!”

He slammed his fist hard against the glass and the snake flinched back. Charlie snapped a glare towards her cousin, anger rising within her. “Hey! You’re scaring it! Leave the python alone!”

Dudley shifted his chin to glare at her. Before he could make a retort, the glass suddenly vanished, sending him toppling into the exhibit. He splashed into the water, spluttering in terror as the snake moved by him and into the main building.

" _Thankssss_ ,” it hissed before slithering to freedom.

People screamed and ran as they noticed the massive snake come their way. Charlie was frozen to the floor in shock. _I heard the snake talk. The snake talked to me. I talked to a snake. What the heck is going on?_

Something solid grabbed the collar of her shirt and yanked her to her feet. Vernon, his face purple, lugged her off without a word. Petunia pulled Dudley out of the snake habitat, hysteria in her voice as she checked him over.

_I’m not leaving my cupboard for a long time,_ Charlie thought wearily.


	2. Barrage of Letters

Charlie could not remember a time when she had been confined to her cupboard for so long. Her stomach rumbled in hunger and she let out a tired sigh. Her legs were beginning to cramp from lack of movement and she was bored out of her mind. She read the only book she owned for the millionth time and was on her fiftieth game of Solitaire.

The cupboard door suddenly flew open and she jolted, her cards scattering over her cot. Relieved to be let out, she stumbled from the small confines. The sunlight streaming in through the front windows momentarily blinded her and she flinched.

"What year is it?"

Annoyed, Vernon jerked his chin towards the kitchen before lumbering into the living room. Charlie entered the room, spotting the plate of toast and bowl of oatmeal waiting on the table. She immediately shoved the toast into her mouth and grabbed a banana from the counter, slicing it up into her oatmeal.

Raucous laughter caused her to peek through the sliding screen door. She groaned inwardly when she spotted Dudley and his gang playing with a football. She took her breakfast and slipped out of view. Dudley liked to show off for his friends and his favourite way to do that was to bully her. It made school a nightmare.

Not that school itself was a nightmare. She loved learning and she liked her teachers. But though school came easily to her, she couldn’t have the grades she wanted. Two years ago, the teacher called her aunt and uncle in for a meeting. Her grades were great but Dudley’s were lacking. The teacher suggested some tutoring for Dudley to help him reach her level.

That had not gone well. Petunia and Vernon were convinced she was purposely making Dudley look like a fool. To keep them pacified, she dumbed down her work to meet Dudley’s level. The teacher had been concerned but Charlie assured her everything was fine at home.

And things were fine. Or as fine as they could be. But she knew what would happen if she told people about her relatives’ mistreatment of her. She’d wind up in a foster home or an orphanage. Not that Petunia or Vernon had ever threatened her with such a thing. She’d learned that much from books checked out from the school library. She just figured no one had to know. Her life wasn’t great but it wasn’t horrible.

There was hope for the upcoming school year. She’d be going to a new school and so would Dudley. For the first time they would be separated. Her cousin would be going to the fancy, expensive school every male Dursley had attended since the beginning of time. Charlie, on the other hand, would be going to the local secondary school. For the first time in her life her uncle would have to shell out money in order to buy her new clothes. None of Dudley’s hand-me-downs fit the uniform requirements.

Though it was dim, it was still a bright side. And while her life wasn’t the brightest, she would take what she could get.

...

"Dudley! Knock it off!"

Her cousin’s response was to smack her once more with the stupid stick that accompanied his uniform. Her elbow jostled her glass of milk and it tipped over, spilling all over the scratch-free wooden table. “Dang it,” she grumbled.

She stood up and let out a yelp as Dudley hit her knees. Limping over to the sink to grab a dishcloth, she turned to glare at him. “What is the point of that thing?”

“To smack people,” Dudley responded.

There was the sound of letters hitting the mat in the front hallway. Still engrossed in his newspaper, Vernon said, "Charlotte, go get the mail.”

Her relatives refused to call her by the nickname she had given herself. But she didn’t mind. Though she preferred Charlie, she had nothing against Charlotte.

She finished wiping up the milk and nearly tripped when Dudley smacked the stick against her ankles. “That should be classified as a weapon,” she snapped as she entered the hallway. She scooped up the pile of mail and flicked through the envelopes idly. Her fingers froze on one thick envelope and she gaped at the words scrawled on the back in emerald ink.

_Charlotte Lily Potter  
The Cupboard Under the Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey_

She slowly turned the letter over and stared at the purple wax seal. There were four animals; a lion, eagle, badger and a snake surrounding the letter H. She’d never seen anything like it before.

"This has to be some sort of joke," she whispered to herself, green eyes still wide with shock.

"Hurry up!" Vernon shouted.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she returned to the kitchen and absent-mindedly handed her uncle his mail.

Dudley noticed the lone envelope in her hand immediately. "Charlotte's got a letter!" he cried.

Immediately on alert, Vernon threw down his paper and snatched the heavy piece of mail from her hands. "Hey!" she cried. "That's mine! It’s illegal to open mail that’s not yours, you know."

“You’re a child and I’m your guardian. And it’s my house. I can open your mail if I bloody well want to.” Vernon took the letter out and the second he read the first line, his face turned grey. "Petunia!" he rasped, shaking the letter in front of her face.

Petunia took it curiously and had the same reaction after reading the first sentence. "What do we do?" she asked shrilly. "Vernon, how could they possibly—?"

Vernon snapped his head to Dudley and Charlie, who were staring at them oddly. " _Out! The both of you!_ " he thundered.

Dudley was outraged. "I want to read it!"

Charlie scowled when her aunt grabbed her tightly by the arm and dragged her out of the kitchen. " _You_ want to read it? It's my letter!"

" _Out!_ " Vernon roared.

Then he did something he’d never done before. He grabbed Dudley by the neck of his sweater and chucked him into the hall. Petunia shoved Charlie after him, in a manner she was very accustomed to, and slammed the kitchen door shut.

Whispering erupted and the two cousins immediately eavesdropped. Charlie had her ear against the crack of the door, listening intently.

"How do they know?" Petunia cried. “Are they watching us?”

"Of course they are! How else would they know she lives in the cupboard?"

"What should we do?" Petunia asked fretfully. "Should we write them back? Tell them to leave us alone?”

"Calm down!" Vernon soothed. "I'm sure we're close to stamping that horrid stuff out of her. We agreed, didn't we, that she would not be associated with _those_ people when we took her in? They’ll catch on when we ignore them. No matter what, she’s not going to _that_ place."

Frowning, Dudley asked loudly, “What are they talking about?”

“Shh!” hissed Charlie.

But it was too late. The door flew open and the pair fell backwards with a yelp. Furious, Vernon hollered, “Both of you! Go to your rooms!”

Dudley scampered towards the stairs and Charlie dove inside her cupboard, shutting the door behind her. She could hear Vernon’s footsteps as he returned to the kitchen. Huffing out a breath, she went to lay on her small cot.

Her eavesdropping offered more questions than answers, and she wondered what Vernon meant by ‘ _those_ people’. What place didn’t they want her to go?

Several minutes later a knock came at her cupboard door. She sat up and reached for the knob, nudging the door open. She wasn’t surprised to see Vernon on the other side. “Yes?”

"I've been thinking," he said, "that you're getting to be rather big for this cupboard. I believe it would be best if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

“Does this have anything to do with my letter?” asked Charlie suspiciously.

"It was misaddressed," Vernon said curtly.

"It was not!" Charlie exclaimed. "It was addressed to _me_! It even said 'Cupboard Under the Stairs'! I really don't think there's anyone else in the world who lives by that address."

" _Enough!_ " Vernon roared. "No more questions! Take your things and go to Dudley's second bedroom this instant!"

"Okay, okay!" Charlie took a minute to gather her possessions, which could literally fit into her arms, and went up the stairs. She kicked open the door to Dudley's second bedroom, which was more of a toy room than anything else.

Many broken toys littered the shelves and floor. The only relatively new things in the room were the books stacked on the shelves, shiny covers glossy in the morning light. Charlie shoved the assortment of toys off her new bed and dumped her own stuff onto the mattress.

A sudden, angry howl pierced through the house and she rolled her eyes. Someone had clearly broken the news to Dudley. Ignoring his shouts and Petunia’s attempts to placate him, she scanned the clutter. Hoping to have her new room a bit more organized, she crossed the second-floor landing and peered over the banister.

“Do you want me to do anything with the toys or do I just leave them be?” she called, briefly interrupting Dudley’s tantrum.

“Leave them be,” answered Petunia crisply. “We’ll buy a toy bin to store them and put it in Dudley’s room.”

Charlie returned to her room and shut the door. She went over to the bookshelf and perused the titles. Eventually settling on a copy of _Treasure Island_ , she curled up against the headboard and began to read.

“Well, even if I don’t get the letter, at least I got a proper bed.”

...

Breakfast the next morning was filled with a tense silence. Vernon and Petunia sat still as statues. Charlie stirred her cereal, shifting her eyes around the table.

The mail struck the mat and Charlie sprang to her feet. Vernon raised a hand to halt her. “Dudley,” he said sharply, “get the mail.”

Charlie sent him a surprised glance. Dudley gaped at his father. “What?”

“You heard me. Please go get the mail.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Dudley glowered at Charlie as he stormed past. A few seconds later he called, "Hey! There's another one! _Charlotte Lily Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive—"_

Charlie took off running. She made it to Dudley and grabbed the envelope from his pudgy hand. Her foot fell on the first step when Vernon caught up to her, huffing and puffing. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her down. There was a brief few minutes of complete confusion as they tried to get a hold of the letter. Dudley waved his stick wildly and it clipped Charlie across the back of the head. She hit the floor, dazed, and Vernon held the letter aloft and out of Dudley’s reach.

"Go to your bedroom!" he wheezed, breathless from the brief physical exertion. "And Dudley, just go!"

Stumbling slightly as her head throbbed, Charlie inched her way up the stairs. _Next time,_ she vowed. _I’ll get it next time._

...

Charlie stood still in the dark room, her green eyes never leaving the glowing numbers of the alarm clock on Dudley's old nightstand. She was grateful to now have the ability to tell time in the dark of the night. She just had to wait for dawn to break and then she would sneak outside and wait for the postman.

Six o'clock arrived and Charlie slipped out into the hallway. She tiptoed down the stairs, her heart thudding with excitement as she reached the front door.

" _Aagghh!_ "

Charlie shrieked and stumbled backwards into the wall. The light flicked on and Charlie was horrified to discover she had just stepped on her uncle's face. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she cried.

"Go make a kettle of tea!" he hissed, holding his aching jaw. Charlie shuffled into the kitchen, grumbling in defeat. By the time the tea was ready and she carried a cup back to her uncle, he was tearing up her letter. "Hey!”

Vernon ignored her. He called in sick to work and used his free time to hammer wood over the mail slot, sealing it shut. Petunia watched him, hands twisting together. "Dear, I really don't think—"

"It's a foolproof plan!" Vernon cackled. "Can't give us mail without a mail slot, can they?"

Charlie smirked. She knew that whoever was sending these letters wasn’t going to give up so easily.

Though she expected mail to arrive, she didn’t expect the sheer amount of it. The next morning dozens and dozens of letters came pouring through the open windows and down the chimney. Charlie spent a good minute jumping up and down, trying to retrieve at least one before her uncle threw her into the hallway.

" _That's it! We're leaving! Pack up your bags!_ "

The hysteria in his voice prevented Charlie from challenging him. He was bound and determined to keep her from getting that letter. But there was something more pressing at hand—her aunt and uncle weren’t surprised by the letters that flooded their house and she wanted to know why. She wanted to know why they merely stared at her in horror whenever she broke something without touching it.

They had every right to sneer at her explanations, explanations that didn’t make sense. A human being couldn’t just teleport onto a roof. But she did. And her aunt and uncle believed her. The letter that was meant for her, most likely about a place they didn’t want her to attend, it had to be related to the weird things that had been happening to her recently.

But what the heck was happening to her? Why wouldn’t they tell her?

With the questions burning in her brain, she took a few minutes to gather her things into her tattered backpack. She went downstairs and found Vernon in the living room, shoving her letters into the fireplace.

_What is in that letter?_

When they were all ready, Vernon piled them into the car. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Charlie rested her chin against the palm of her hand and watched as the suburbs morphed into the city and then the countryside. Vernon didn’t make a pit stop until it was dark. He pulled into the parking lot of a seedy-looking motel and Dudley practically tumbled out of the car. He made a dash for the washrooms and Petunia scurried after him.

“Get the bags, girl,” Vernon ordered.

Staring at the back of his head, Charlie said, “You know, you could save yourself all this trouble and just tell me what’s going on.”

Vernon whipped around to glare at her. “Keep your mouth shut and don’t ask questions. If I have to tell you again, you’ll be sleeping with the rats in the bushes.”

Charlie knew an empty threat when she heard one. But instead of arguing she merely nodded her head and went to retrieve their luggage from the trunk.

Whoever was sending those letters had already proven they weren’t going to stop until she opened one herself. Charlie was beginning to worry just how far her uncle would go to keep her from them.

...

Vernon and Petunia nearly had a conniption when the front desk clerk informed them a hundred letters had been delivered for Charlie. She nearly jumped over the desk in her eagerness before Petunia hooked her fingers in the collar of her shirt and dragged her outside.

Charlie had to admire Vernon’s tenacity. At least three hundred letters had been delivered at this point and she still couldn’t get her fingers on a single one.

They drove for another few hours, coming upon the shore. They all filed onto the rocky beach and Charlie stared at the boat that bobbed in the dark water. The wind whistled and rain splattered against them. Charlie tucked her hands into the sleeves of her sweater, staring at the dreary landscape in bafflement.

“Uncle Vernon, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Get. In. The. Boat.”

She turned to Petunia in disbelief. Her aunt’s glare wasn’t as scathing as it usually was. There was a hint of fear and worry in her beady eyes.

“Daddy, have you gone mad?” squeaked Dudley.

“Absolutely not,” said Vernon dismissively. “Girl, _get in the boat_.”

Charlie slowly lowered into onto of the seats, hugging her backpack to her chest. Vernon rowed them across the water. Charlie was grateful for Dudley’s hand-me-downs in that moment. They certainly kept her warm.

Eventually they could see an island in the distance, comprised of sharp rocks. Sitting on that island was a shack that looked like it would blow over any second. "We've arrived!” declared Vernon triumphantly.

"Great. I’ve always wanted a summer vacation house,” Charlie muttered under her breath.

She helped her uncle drag the boat onto the island. They entered the ramshackle house, where water dripped down the walls and mice skittered across the dirt-covered floors. Petunia could only gape in horror.

Charlie raised a brow. “I think you’re going to need more than a broom to clean up this mess. _Ow!_ ”

“Put some wood in the fire,” Vernon ordered.

Rubbing the spot on her head he had swatted, Charlie let out an annoyed sigh and went to complete her task. Soon a fire was roaring in the fireplace and she changed out of her damp clothes. Petunia found some blankets and pillows that smelled like must. Charlie stretched her blanket out across the floor and laid against it. Dudley settled on the creaky couch, shooting her daggers with his eyes.

“This is all your fault,” he snapped.

“All they have to do is tell me what’s in that letter!” cried Charlie. “I don’t know what the big deal is.”

Dudley didn’t exactly have a response, for he also didn’t understand why they had to be dragged out to an island just to avoid a letter.

It was difficult to fall asleep in their current conditions. The wind whistled right through the walls and the waves sloshed against the rocks. Dudley somehow managed to get some sleep, his snores almost as loud as the elements of nature. Charlie lazily traced patterns in the dirt, occasionally checking the glowing numbers displayed on Dudley’s watch.

“Five more minutes and I’ll be eleven,” she said softly to herself. “I’ll probably end up with pneumonia after this. Happy birthday to me.”

There was a loud bang from outside and Charlie jumped. Her first instinct was that the roof was going to give way and she eyed the ceiling warily. _I’d really rather not die on my birthday. Roof, please stay where you are._

Another noise sounded, this time sounding close to the door. She snapped her head around, nerves jumping in her stomach. _If a rabid raccoon bursts through that door I am out of here._

**_BAM!_ **

The door burst off its rusty hinges and clattered to the floor. In the frame was a hulking form, silhouetted by darkness and mist. Dudley jerked awake at the sound and, upon spotting the massive person in their hut, screamed in terror and toppled off the couch.

Charlie scrambled to her feet with a startled shriek. “Who are you?! What do you want?”

"Charlotte Potter!" a deep voice boomed. "It's good teh see yeh!"


	3. A Trip to Diagon Alley

Her bravado at facing off against the intruder diminished after he spoke her name. Utterly bewildered, Charlie said, “Wait. How do you know who I am?”

"Everyone knows who yeh are. An’ the las' time I saw yeh, yeh were only a baby!" the man said cheerfully as he squeezed into the tiny shack. "How have yeh bin?"

Charlie screwed her eyes shut and opened them again. The man was still there. She pinched herself for good measure. No, she definitely wasn’t dreaming. "Good, I guess,” she said in bewilderment.

Footsteps thundered on the stairs and her aunt and uncle appeared. Dudley went to them at once and was wrapped up in his mother’s embrace. Vernon was white with terror, but it didn’t stop him from hollering, “Get out of this house at once!”

"Shut up Dursley,” the man growled, his friendly disposition immediately turning frigid. “Yeh’ve caused us a lot o’ trouble. We've bin wonderin' why Charlotte hasn' bin gettin' her letters. Typical that yer the cause.”

Charlie stared at her aunt and uncle, who were glowering at their surprise visitor with contempt. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly, “but you still haven’t told me who you are.”

His cold glare transformed back into pure warmth when he returned his attention to her. "Ah, where are me manners? I'm Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ the Keys at Hogwarts. I’m here teh give yeh yer letter."

“Hogwarts?” echoed Charlie.

Seeing the confusion on her face, Hagrid’s brow furrowed. “Yeh do know what Hogwarts is?”

“She doesn’t know a thing,” said Vernon hotly. “And you’ll keep it that way!”

"All these years an’ yeh didn’ tell her nothin’ abou' Hogwarts?” said Hagrid furiously.

"I’m clearly missing something,” said Charlie, mystified. “What the heck is Hogwarts?”

Hagrid let out a weary sigh. "I suppose the letter would be a good place teh start.”

Charlie's bright green eyes lit up when Hagrid removed another thick envelope from his heavy brown jacket. Vernon started forwards but Hagrid swung his pink umbrella to jab at him, eyes narrowed in warning. Vernon hung back, lips pressed in a thin line.

Charlie ripped open the envelope and unfurled the letter nestled within.

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a position here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your list of school supplies is enclosed with this letter._

_Please note that Term One begins on September the First. Your owl should not be later than July Thirty-First._

_Deputy Headmistress,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Brow furrowing, she read over the letter once more before checking the supply list that came with it. It was full of books with titles she didn’t recognize, seemingly related to magical topics. “Witchcraft and wizardry?” she repeated uncomprehendingly. “But there’s no such thing.”

Hagrid stared at her in surprise. "O' course magic is real!"

"He’s lying!” Vernon interjected quickly.

Realizing then that Charlotte had zero idea of who she truly was, Hagrid turned on her cowering relatives. _“Dursleys!”_ he roared.

There was a flash of light and Petunia, Vernon and Dudley opened their mouths to scream. But no sound left their lips.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

“Looks like I got a lot o’ explainin’ teh do." Hagrid settled down on the couch. He inspected Charlie and his features softened. “Yeh got yer Mum's eyes. But yeh look a lot like yer father."

Regarding him in shock, she said, “You knew my parents?”

“Sure did.”

This was no dream. This was no prank. Hagrid was here, delivering her an acceptance letter to a magical school. Charlie ran her fingers through her hair, struggling to process this information. “So if I’m a witch, that means my parents were magical too.”

"Yer parents were the greatest witch an’ wizard o’ their year,” confirmed Hagrid proudly. “Yer mother was a Muggle-born. Yer father was a pure-blood. They were great assets in the war against You-Know-Who. They were also close teh Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster o’ Hogwarts. Very loyal teh him. Figure that’s why You-Know-Who killed ‘em.”

Charlie blinked. "Mr. Hagrid—"

"Everyone calls me Hagrid," he interrupted.

"Hagrid. I don’t understand. I thought my parents died in a car crash.”

" _A car crash!_ " he bellowed, jumping to his feet and turning burning eyes onto the adult Dursleys. They stood in the corner, only able to observe with horrified expressions. "How dare yeh? Disgracin’ their legacy!”

Charlie realized then that there was a very good reason her relatives never answered her questions about her parents. They had known all along she was a witch. “Well, if they didn’t die in a car crash, then who killed them?”

"Good for nothin’ Dursleys. Yeh should already know all o’ this by now."

“They never really answered my questions,” said Charlie with a shrug. “But if my parents and I were never in a car crash how did I get this?” She brushed aside her bangs, revealing her lightning bolt-shaped scar.

"I shouldn' be the one tellin’ yeh this," Hagrid said anxiously. "But it would do yeh no good teh enter Hogwarts knowin' nothin’ abou' yer past. I don' like sayin’ his name. In fact, only Dumbledore says his name.” He took a moment to steady himself before saying in a whisper, “You-Know-Who is known as Voldemort."

Hagrid shuddered as the name left his lips. Charlie raised a brow, for that was a most unusual name, but did not remark on it. "Don' make me say it again,” he muttered. “You-Know-Who is the Darkest wizard o’ all time. He's killed thousands, some o’ the best. He especially hates Muggles.” When Charlie sent him a quizzical glance, he clarified, “That's the name fer non-magic folk. Anyway, some say the only person he fears is Albus Dumbledore."

"If Voldemort—” When Hagrid flinched, Charlie amended, “Sorry. If You-Know-Who-is so powerful, then how come I didn't die with my parents?"

"No one knows. That's why yer known as the Girl-Who-Lived. Yer famous in our world, Charlotte! No one has ever survived You-Know-Who when he's decided he wants yeh dead! But he jus' couldn' kill yeh! No one knows why, except maybe Dumbledore. That night when he tried teh kill yeh, somethin’ happened. That scar on yer forehead? That's from an evil curse. It took yer parents but not yeh."

Charlie sat in silence for a moment, her eyes watering slightly. Her parents hadn’t died in an accident. They were murdered. “What happened to him?” she finally asked in a quiet voice.

"Dunno. Some say he died but I doubt he had any mortality left in him teh die. I still think he's out there bidin’ his time.”

"You’re telling me that I defeated the Darkest wizard of all time when I was just a baby.”

Whatever she had expected that letter to bring her, it certainly wasn’t any of this.

Hagrid nodded solemnly. But then he brightened and exclaimed, "Almos' forgot! It's yer birthday, right?" He ignored Charlie's incredulous expression and pulled a package from out of his thick coat. "Here yeh go."

Charlie took the gift and opened it. Inside was a slightly squished vanilla cake, her name written in pink icing. “Thanks,” she said in awe. It was the first gift she’d ever gotten.

"Come along then." Hagrid stood up and motioned for her to follow. "We've got a lot o' shoppin' teh do."

“Um…” Charlie sent a hesitant look towards her uncle, who levelled her with a ferocious glower.

Hagrid moved himself in front of the girl, his own glare causing Vernon to back down. “Don’ worry about them,” he said bitterly. “They won’ have a problem with yeh comin’ with me. An’ if they do…I’m sure Dumbledore will have a word with ‘em.”

Charlie didn’t know who this Dumbledore was, but the threat of having him make contact caused Petunia and Vernon to retreat with Dudley scurrying after them. Charlie watched them go in slight amusement, for she had never seen her relatives intimidated by anybody before. “They’ll get their voices back, right?”

“In a few hours.”

_Darn. I was hoping for a bit longer than that._

...

Most of the night was spent travelling back to civilization. They arrived at a motel, where Hagrid had booked two rooms, and Charlie squeezed in a few hours of sleep before the morning light woke her once more. For a second, she believed she had dreamed the whole encounter. But then she took in her surroundings and a heavy hammering came on her door and all her doubts vanished.

She was a witch, and Hagrid was going to take her school supply shopping.

They wandered down the streets of London. Charlie peeked at the pink umbrella Hagrid gripped in his hand. “Is that what you use to do magic with?” she asked curiously, remembering the way he brandished it at her relatives before their voices were taken away.

“Not really,” said Hagrid sheepishly. “I was expelled in me third year at Hogwarts so I’m not supposed teh do magic. Yeh won’ mention what I did teh the Dursleys, will yeh?”

“It’ll be our secret,” she promised. “How many years will I spend at Hogwarts?”

“Seven.”

Charlie did a quick calculation in her head. That meant she would be finished Hogwarts when she was seventeen, which was a year less than how it usually worked in the human world. Or Muggle world, as Hagrid deemed it.

They reached a building, the sign above the door reading ‘Leaky Cauldron’. Charlie stepped inside after Hagrid, eyeing the group of people that stopped their conversations to stare at them. Seeing her shrink back slightly, Hagrid clapped her shoulder.

“No need teh be shy, Charlotte!”

“Charlotte? Charlotte Potter?” someone cried excitedly.

She was suddenly surrounded by what she now realized to be witches and wizards. They eagerly shook her hand and assaulted her with questions. “Leave her be, leave her be!” said Hagrid firmly, guiding her through the crowd. “We’ve got some shoppin’ teh do!” He spotted someone familiar lingering at the back of the room and he beamed. “Ah, Professor Quirinus Quirrell!”

A pale man approached her and extended a trembling hand. She shook it politely and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you Professor.”

“Y-y-you as well, M-M-Miss Potter.”

Quirrell and Hagrid had a brief conversation before he and Charlie departed, slipping out of the back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

"He stammers a lot," Charlie remarked.

"Rumour has it he encountered a vampire an’ was never the same again," Hagrid said.

Charlie gaped at him. “Vampires are real?”

“O’ course they are!”

They approached a brick wall and Hagrid tapped on one particular brick. Charlie's green eyes widened when a doorway appeared before them. She cautiously followed after Hagrid and paused when they came out on the other side.

"Welcome teh Diagon Alley!" Hagrid said cheerfully.

A series of shops with odd window displays lined the street. Witches and wizards dressed in robes of bright colours traversed the cobblestones, a hum of conversation in the air. Charlie took a moment to observe it all.

“This is amazing, Hagrid,” she breathed.

“What’s firs' on the list, Charlotte?”

“Charlie. You can call me Charlie, if you want.”

“Will do, Charlie.”

Charlie stared at the piece of parchment in her hand. As she reviewed the items, she cringed at the thought of how much it would cost her. She should have taken a few extra jobs raking lawns. “Um…Hagrid, I can’t pay for anything on this list,” she said softly. “And the Dursleys—”

"Sod the Dursleys,” said Hagrid with a dismissive wave. “Yeh didn' think yer parents left yeh with nothin', did yeh?"

Actually, Charlie had. Or she figured if she was left something her aunt and uncle snatched it up. “Oh. But if I have money, where is it?”

"Gringotts. The wizarding bank run by goblins."

He pointed down the street, where a snow-white building loomed above all the others. The pair made their way to the bank and when they entered, they came upon a massive lobby. Small goblins moved about, with many of them manning the bank teller stations. She stared at the creatures she previously thought to be mythical.

_Goblins right in front of me, vampires exist, and I am a witch. I can’t believe this is happening._

Hagrid approached an available goblin teller. "Mornin’," he greeted. "We're here teh take some money out o’ Miss Charlotte Potter's vault." He handed over a key and the goblin inspected it.

Deeming it acceptable, he asked gruffly, "Anything else?"

Hagrid nodded and handed over a letter. "Dumbledore would like the item in Vault 713.” He spoke in a whisper, though Charlie was able to hear him due to being right next him. The goblin read the letter thouroughly and nodded.

"What's in Vault 713?" Charlie asked curiously. She snuck a quick glance at the name tag attached to the teller station, which read ‘Griphook’.

"Never yeh mind," Hagrid said sternly. "Important Hogwarts business."

Griphook led them to an odd passage that contained two rail tracks. Griphook whistled and a cart came roaring towards them. Charlie climbed in after Hagrid and her stomach lurched when the vehicle took off. She screwed her eyes shut as they twisted and turned down the dark passage at a rapid speed.

It seemed to take far too long before they came to a stop. She stumbled out, knees weak and struggling not to collapse to the hard floor. "I don't like that," she muttered woozily.

"I don' either," Hagrid agreed. "It’ll pass, don’ worry. Let's get yer money."

Charlie entered her vault and froze. Piles of gold, silver and bronze coins were everywhere, towering high and glinting merrily at her. It took a minute before she could find her voice. “What is this?”

"Well, the gold coins are called Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles an' the bronze coins are Knuts," Hagrid explained.

“And it’s all mine?”

“It’s all yers.”

He handed her a pouch with a smile. Charlie slowly moved over to the nearest pile and shoved some coins inside. She stuck the pouch in her pocket and followed Hagrid back to the cart. She shot another disbelieving glance over her shoulder, catching one more glimpse of her newly-discovered wealth before Griphook shut the heavy door.

Hagrid kept a solid arm around her as the cart made its way to the second vault. Hagrid told her to stay put as he followed Griphook. Craning her neck, Charlie managed to catch Hagrid sticking a small package into his pocket.

“What is that?” she asked when he returned to her.

“Never yeh mind.” They left the bank and ventured outside. "How abou’ yeh get yer school uniform?” suggested Hagrid.

“Sure,” she agreed.

He brought her to a shop called Madam Malkin’s. Hagrid waited outside as Charlie nudged open the door and entered the shop. A witch came to meet her with a smile. "Another Hogwarts student?" she asked knowingly.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Let’s take a look at you, then.” She motioned for Charlie to climb onto a stool. When Charlie was settled, Madam Malkin slipped a robe over her head and began adjusting the length with pins.

A girl stood on the stool next to her as another seamstress carefully took in her black robe. She had short black hair and narrow, beady eyes, which stared appraisingly at the new arrival. "I expect you’re going to be a first-year at Hogwarts, like me."

"Yes, that’s right."

"What House do you suppose you'll be in?"

Having zero clue what she was talking about, Charlie answered, “I’m not sure.”

"I assume I'll be in Slytherin. All the Parkinsons have been in Slytherin," she boasted. "It’s the House my best friend will be in, as well. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Malfoys. The other Houses simply aren’t good enough. Are you a Quidditch player? I'm not much of a player, but Draco is. He's rather upset that first-years can't have brooms. I must agree that it is a stupid rule."

_Words are coming out of her mouth but I can't make sense of them.  
_

But that didn’t seem to matter, for the girl didn’t let Charlie respond. She swivelled her chin to the side and gave a derisive scoff. “Who is that?” Charlie followed her gaze and stared out the window. Across the street, Hagrid was buying some ice-cream cones.

Not liking her superior tone, she replied, "That's Hagrid. He's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts."

"The people they let on Hogwarts property nowadays," she scoffed. "Bad enough that I’ll have to share the same school as Muggle-borns.” Shifting a glare to Charlie, she asked with a hint of suspicion, “What’s your family name?”

Charlie was saved from answering by Madam Malkin, who finished her work. “All right dear, you’re all done. I’ll just package your robes for you.”

“Bye!” she said quickly to the girl before hopping off the stool and making a beeline for the front counter. She carried out her package of new robes and met up with Hagrid, who handed her an ice-cream cone.

“I think we should get yer wand next,” he said.

As they continued on their way, Charlie asked, "I met a Hogwarts student in the shop. She was talking about Houses and Quidditch. What are they?”

"Blimey, I forgot how much yeh don' know! Hogwarts has four Houses tha' first-year students are Sorted into. Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin an’ Ravenclaw. A lot o’ Dark witches and wizards have come from Slytherin. Full o’ prejudice, they are.”

She’d only met the girl for a minute, but she thought Pansy would fit into Slytherin nicely. "And Quidditch?”

"It's a wizardin' sport where yeh fly on brooms. It's kind o’ like what yeh Muggles call football. But not really.”

“That clears so much up for me,” she said in amusement.

“Ah, yeh’ll see it in action fer yerself.”

They arrived at a place called Ollivanders. Hagrid waved her inside and she approached the grey-haired man standing behind the counter. He regarded her with interest. "So you're the famous Charlotte Potter.”

Surprised, she shifted her hand to her forehead, discovering that her bangs had blown aside. She hastily adjusted her bangs so they covered her scar. “That’s me,” she said politely. “Though I don’t know about famous.”

“Oh, certainly famous. Let’s see what wand is most suited for you, shall we?”

Charlie didn’t know how long she stood there, waving wand after wand. Dozens of boxes were piling on the counter for each wand that didn’t work out. Frustration leaked into her and the wand currently in her hand gave an angry hiss before sparks exploded from the tip.

“I don’t think this is going well,” she muttered.

Ollivander seemed to be having the time of his life. “Nonsense. There’s a wand for you somewhere. Actually…I wonder…”

He disappeared among the shelves of wands for a moment before returning. He handed another box to her and Charlie carefully removed the wand. It seemed to hum against her fingers, warmth spreading through her. Awed, she gave it a flick and purple sparkles showered from the tip.

“This wand is holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches,” Ollivander explained. He set the wand back in its box. “It’s rather interesting.”

"Why?”

"The wand chooses the wizard. It seems that its brother, the wand with the only other phoenix tail feather that came from the same phoenix, belongs to the wizard that gave you that scar. Yes, it was yew, thirteen and a half inches. I think we can expect great things from you, Miss Potter."

Uncertain of how she should take that piece of information, Charlie managed a smile as she paid for her wand. “Um…thanks.”

The bookstore was the next stop and the place she had been looking forward to the most. Charlie entered Flourish and Blotts with a wide grin. Hundreds of books lined the shelves, the titles strange and bound in leather.

She manoeuvred through the stacks while Hagrid waited outside for her, his form too bulky for the tightly-packed shelves. She gently piled each book in her arms while mentally checking it off her list.

"Oof!"

She collided with someone and hit the ground. A multitude of books clattered to the hardwood floor around them. Her eyes immediately locked on the person she had slammed into. "I'm really sorry! Are you okay?"

The girl gingerly rubbed her head. "Oh yes, I'm perfectly fine.” She glanced at the mess around them and realized there were two sets of the same textbooks. “Are you going to Hogwarts as well?"

“Yeah. I actually just got my letter yesterday.”

Surprise on her features, the bushy-haired girl said, “That’s rather late, isn’t it? I received mine a couple days ago.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“I was surprised when my letter came in. My parents aren’t magical at all. I thought it was a joke at first, but then a professor from the school came to meet with us.”

“Really?” asked Charlie as she began to collect her books. “No one came to visit me.”

_Well, not a professor, at least. I’m pretty sure professors don’t bang down doors._

“It’s a courtesy they do for Muggle-borns. Children born to non-magical parents. Professor McGonagall—she’s the Head of Gryffindor House and a Transfiguration professor—she came to explain everything to us. I couldn’t believe it.” Regarding Charlie thoughtfully, Hermione said, “You must be a full witch, then?”

“Kind of. I was raised in the Muggle world like you, but my parents were a witch and wizard. They, uh, passed away when I was baby and I was raised by my aunt and uncle.”

Hermione’s cheeks coloured with embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked. We have just met, after all.” Realization struck her and she exclaimed, “I never introduced myself. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“I'm Charlotte Potter, but you can call me Charlie."

Eyes widening, Hermione said, “I’ve read about you. You're the girl who defeated You-Know-Who when you were just an infant.”

“That’s me,” said Charlie lightly. “How have you read about me?”

“There’s quite a few books about you. I picked some up when I first got my letter so I could educate myself about the wizarding world. I’m just picking the rest up today. I want to be prepared for the first day of classes. What I’ve learned so far is fascinating.”

“I wouldn’t call myself fascinating,” joked Charlie and Hermione grinned. “What House do you think you’ll be in?”

"I think Gryffindor would be nice, but Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad either. How about you?”

"I'm not sure,” admitted Charlie. “I guess any House would be okay. Well, I don’t know about Slytherin. From what I’ve heard they don’t have the best reputation.”

Her eyes catching the time on her watch, Hermione’s face fell. “I’d love to talk with you some more, but I really most be going. My parents are waiting for me outside and I don’t think they’re entirely comfortable in the wizarding world.”

“I should get going as well.” Charlie stood, balancing her stack of books.

“I’ll see you on the train?” asked Hermione hopefully.

“For sure.”

Beaming, Hermione departed for the register. Charlie spent a few minutes collecting the rest of her textbooks before paying for them. She met up with Hagrid outside. "Yeh know, I haven' gotten yeh a birthday present yet,” he remarked.

"Yes, you did," she informed him. "That was a delicious birthday cake."

Hagrid waved a large hand at that. "Nah, I'll get yer animal.”

Charlie tried to protest, but Hagrid wasn’t having it. They entered the pet store and she found a beautiful snow-white cat that she instantly fell in love with. “What will yeh name her?” asked Hagrid as Charlie carried her out of the store in a pet carrier.

“Snowflake. Snowy for short.” Beaming up at the man, she said, “Thank you.”

“Yer welcome, Charlie. It’s my pleasure.”

Having a thought, she said, "Um, since I don't have an owl to send my confirmation letter—”

"Don' worry abou' it,” Hagrid said, cutting her off. “I'll let Dumbledore know yer teh be expected come September."

Charlie grinned broadly. She was a witch. She was going to a school that taught magic. She would finally be away from the Dursleys.

It was definitely her best birthday ever.


	4. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hagrid dropped her off at the rocky shore, where the boat was half-heartedly docked and the Dursleys were waiting for her in the car. Going by the glower Hagrid sent them, Charlie figured their fear of the consequences was the only reason they hadn’t left her behind.

For the remainder of the summer her relatives pretty much ignored her. While this wasn’t unusual, the atmosphere surrounding the behaviour was different. Dudley refused to be in same room as her and her aunt and uncle barely barked any orders. Charlie wasn’t entirely surprised they had kept her entire being a secret from her. Petunia and Vernon were boring, dreadfully normal, and magic didn’t suit the perfect world they created for themselves. _She_ didn’t suit their perfect world.

But they still provided her shelter and she was no longer in the cupboard under the stairs, so she counted her blessings. She didn’t speak a word of what happened in Diagon Alley and spent the last few weeks in her room. She read over her textbooks, devouring the words, in awe of the world she would soon be entering. She was tempted to try a few of the spells but Hagrid had left her with a few instructions. The strictest one had been to hold off on the magic until she arrived at Hogwarts.

“Accidental magic is okay, but deliberate magic before yer o’ age will land yeh in trouble,” he had told her gravely.

As the days leading to her departure date dwindled, Charlie realized that someone was going to have to drive her to the train station. Hagrid had given her a ticket before he left her, advising her that the train left at eleven o’clock sharp.

In the evening hours, after Dudley had gone to bed, Charlie went downstairs. Petunia and Vernon were in the living room watching television. Their eyes locked onto her the second she entered. “What are you doing up?” Vernon asked nastily.

“I leave in a few days,” she said. “I need someone to drive me to the train station.”

“Why should we do it?” snapped Petunia. “After how that beast treated us!”

Rocking back on her heels, Charlie said with an innocent expression, “Well, I suppose I could miss my train and just wait for Hagrid to pick me up himself. Right here in the neighbourhood.”

Vernon and Petunia stilled at that, a dozen horrifying scenarios playing in their minds. Satisfied that her point had been made, Charlie pacified them by saying, “I’ll pay gas fare.”

“Darn right you will,” said Vernon at once. “Traipsing you all across town to go to that horrid place. I ought to make you walk.”

“Well, thanks for not. I have to be there by eleven.”

Vernon regarded her, his large face turning a dull red. Petunia pursed her lips, staring coldly at the television screen. They were both clearly against her going to Hogwarts. But they were also aware that there was no longer anything they could do to stop her.

“We’ll leave by ten,” said Vernon tightly, looking away from her. “Go upstairs.”

Charlie nodded and hurried back to her bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time. _And that is how you handle the Dursleys,_ she thought with a grin.

…

Vernon refused to help her load her luggage, so Charlie wrangled her heavy trunk in and out of the boot of the car. A sheen of sweat on her brow from the exertion, she started across the parking lot and towards the station. Snowy mewed at her from her carrier, which was strapped on the top of her trunk. Charlie peeked over her shoulder as Vernon followed after her, an irate frown on his lips. Though she hadn’t expected him to properly see her off she wisely kept her mouth shut.

They navigated through the platforms, staring at the large metal numbers fastened to pillars. There was Platform 9 and Platform 10, but no Platform 9 ¾, which was stamped clearly on her ticket.

“Which platform are you meant to be leaving from?” demanded Vernon.

"Um...I don't suppose you know where Platform 9 ¾ is?”

Vernon sent her a sharp look. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“I’m not.” She held out her ticket and Vernon stared at it for a moment. He suddenly burst into laughter, turned on his heel and departed. Charlie scowled. "Thanks a lot!" she bellowed after him, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "See you in ten months!"

The station’s clock told her it was close to eleven. The last thing she wanted was to miss the train on her very first day of Hogwarts. "Okay, relax. You are not the only witch here,” she muttered. “Just walk around until you find someone who is also going to Hogwarts.”

She wandered idly for a few minutes until she spotted a group of red-haired people standing by the divide between Platform 9 and Platform 10. Her eyes zeroed in on the owl cage grasped by the tallest child. She moved a little bit closer and watched intently as the older boy strode purposefully for the divide.

And disappeared directly through the concrete pillar.

_Right. Secret world. Secret entrance. You’d think Hagrid would have mentioned that._

She waited until the rest of the family had moved through before positioning herself directly in front of the barrier. Charlie took a deep breath, made sure no one was watching, and sprinted straight ahead.

She slipped through the divide seamlessly. Her moment of triumphantly abruptly ended when she stumbled on Dudley’s old, oversized sneakers. She lost control and crashed into the youngest redheaded boy that was lingering near the exit of the barrier. They both fell to the ground in a heap.

“Hey! Watch where you're going!" he snapped, gingerly sitting up.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to crash into you.”

She offered her hand to help him up but the boy swatted it away. He got to his feet and snagged his trunk before stalking away. "Well then." She righted herself and lifted up her trunk. Snowy was hissing in annoyance from her cat cage. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."

She approached the scarlet steam engine, pausing to admire it. It was much more majestic than the trains she was used to.

"Charlie!"

She turned and smiled when Hermione came running up to her. "Hey, Hermione!"

"I've been looking for you! Aren't you excited?” Hermione was bouncing on her toes in anticipation. “We better hurry. The train leaves soon. I’ve found a compartment for us." She took a peek around and asked, “Did you already say goodbye to your aunt and uncle?”

“Uh…yeah,” lied Charlie.

Hermione nodded and led her onto the train. She slid open the door to their compartment and helped Charlie load her trunk onto the luggage rack. She opened the cat carrier and Snowy immediately leapt out, rubbing against her fingers.

“It’s beautiful,” complimented Hermione, reaching out to scratch Snowy’s head.

“Her name is Snowflake. Nickname Snowy. Did you get a pet?”

“Well, my parents said I could either get a pet or some extra books,” explained Hermione. “I thought I could get one next year. I can always use the school’s owls to send letters home. You can do the same.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” replied Charlie, who knew her aunt and uncle would be much happier if they didn’t hear from her all year.

The train blew its horn and there was a slight jerk as they started to move. Charlie looked out the window, watching families wave wildly as they departed. She felt a slight pang. She didn’t think about her parents too much. She didn’t remember them, but often dreamed of what her life would have been like if they’d been alive.

She turned back to face Hermione, who she caught staring at her oddly. Charlie was suddenly very much aware of her outfit; scruffy sneakers that obviously didn’t fit, oversized jeans that were held in place with a belt and a large grey T-shirt. “Aren’t those clothes too big for you?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, but I prefer my clothing to be a bit big,” said Charlie quickly. “And, uh, boy’s clothes are more comfortable.” She regarded Hermione, who was already in her school uniform. “I think I’ll change into my robes as well.”

She removed her robes from her trunk and threw them over Dudley’s old clothes. She tried to ignore the heat building in her cheeks. Her teachers had commented on her clothes once or twice. But Vernon was usually quick to intervene, blustering about how dare they question how he parented. Charlie always smiled, said it was really nothing, because it wasn’t. Clothes were clothes, even if they didn’t fit her.

But now she was alone and, if anyone asked questions, she would have to brush them aside herself.

"I wanted to practice some of the spells I read about, but apparently you can’t do magic outside of school if you’re underage.”

Her attempt to distract Hermione worked. “That’s true,” she agreed. “But I learned that accidental magic happens a lot when you’re first developing your powers. So, I managed to try a few small spells and they all worked perfectly.”

“Wow,” said Charlie with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a rule-breaker.”

“I’m not!” insisted Hermione. “Not really. I was just curious.”

The door to their compartment flew open, revealing a desperate-looking chubby boy. "Have either of you seen a toad?" he asked anxiously. "I can't find Trevor anywhere!"

"I’m afraid not,” said Hermione regretfully.

When the boy’s face fell further, Charlie offered, “I can help you look for him.”

“Would you?” he asked hopefully. “This is a big train and I feel like I’m getting nowhere.”

“It’s no problem,” said Hermione, standing. “What’s your name?”

"Neville Longbottom.”

"I'm Hermione Granger and this is Charlotte Potter."

"But you can call me Charlie," Charlie quickly put in.

Neville’s eyes widened. “You’re Charlotte Potter?” he breathed.

“Everyone really does know my name, don’t they?” asked Charlie in bemusement.

“Of course! You’re famous! You’re the Girl-Who-Lived.” Pausing for a moment, Neville asked in confusion, “You didn’t know you were famous?”

“I didn’t know I was a witch until a few weeks ago.” When Hermione and Neville looked at her with stunned expressions, she realized she had said a bit too much. “Long story,” she said dismissively. “Let’s go find your toad.”

She slipped past them and started knocking on compartment doors. On the third one she came upon a boy with short brunette hair and a tanned complexion. He was staring out the window and hadn’t heard her enter.

“Excuse me?”

He whipped his head around, brown eyes regarding her with surprise. Thick, round glasses perched on his nose. “Yes?”

"Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a toad?"

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

"Thanks anyway.”

Charlie tried the next compartment and found herself staring into the blue eyes of the rude redhead she crashed into earlier. "Oh. Hello. I was wondering if you've seen a toad."

He scowled, slouching low in his seat, a half-eaten sandwich sitting in front of him. "No, I haven't. Now leave me alone. My head is killing me.”

He rubbed the top of his head and sent her an accusing glower. Annoyance flaring within her, Charlie said, “I’m not going to apologize twice. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, sod off.”

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it. If you get tired of brooding in silence, there’s a boy in the next compartment who’s also sitting alone. Maybe you two could enjoy each other’s company.”

She shut the door firmly in his face and continued her search. But she came up with nothing and met up with Hermione. They apologized to Neville, who thanked them for trying before returning to his own compartment.

A while later, a witch came by with a snack trolley. Her stomach rumbling with hunger, Charlie took an armful of strange sweets and handed over some money. "Would you like some?”

Hermione shook her head. "No thanks. My parents are dentists and they don't approve of sugary snacks.”

Charlie rarely got to eat candy and shared no such views as she ripped open a purple package. She yelped when a chocolate shaped like a frog jumped out, landing on the window.

“It’s okay, it’s just a spell,” assured Hermione.

“How do you know?” asked Charlie, carefully prying it off the glass.

“There was a whole book about popular sweets in the wizarding world.”

The chocolate was very good, though having it hop around was a bit disconcerting. There was a card that came with each one and Hermione launched into a biography on each witch and wizard Charlie unearthed.

A sudden, shrill laugh in the corridor caused Charlie to wince. _Oh great…I think I know that laugh._

The compartment door flew open and the girl from Madam Malkin's peered in. "There’s a rumour that Charlotte Potter is on board,” she said. “That’d be you, then?”

“That’s right.”

Thrusting out her hand, the girl said pompously, “I’m Pansy Parkinson.”

Charlie reached out and shook it. A pale, blonde-haired boy leaned over Pansy’s shoulder, eyes flickering with interest. Catching her wandering gaze, Pansy said, “And this is—”

“I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself. Draco Malfoy,” he said smoothly. He glanced over at Hermione and smirked. "Look Pansy. It seems that Charlotte is already making a social blunder.”

"We can help with that.” Pansy sent Hermione a sneer. “I can’t believe the filth they let into this school. We can help you make friends with the right sort.”

Hermione shrunk back, cheeks turning red with humiliation. Charlie stood and laid her hand on the door. “I think I can handle making friends on my own,” she said coolly. “And I’ll start by declining your offer. People who call other people filth are the wrong sort in my book.”

She closed the door in their stunned faces. “Thank you,” said Hermione in a small voice. “For defending me.”

Charlie sent her a warm smile. “It’s nothing.”

The train began to slow down and Hermione perked up. “We must be close to Hogwarts!”

A few older students came by and instructed the girls to leave their luggage on the train. Giving Snowy a quick scratch, she locked her cat in her carrier before following after Hermione. They joined the flow of students exiting the train. Ahead of them she spotted the redhead, who was walking beside the brunette she had encountered on the train.

_Well, he may hate my guts, but at least he’s made a friend._

Hagrid towered above all of them, holding a lantern. The sky was rapidly turning dark. “Firs’ years this way!” he boomed. He noticed Charlie making her way towards him and he beamed.

"Do you know him?" Hermione whispered as Charlie waved.

"He's Hagrid. He's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts," she explained. “He paid me a visit. Helped me get my school supplies.”

When all of the first-year students gathered, Hagrid led them to the edge of a vast, black lake. There were dozens of boats floating along the shore and Charlie was struck with déjà vu.

_At least there’s not a hut at the other end of this journey._

“Everyone in a boat!” called Hagrid. “Groups o’ four! Don’ be shy!”

Hermione and Charlie approached the nearest boat. As Charlie climbed in, she heard a delighted cry of “Trevor!”

“I think Neville found his toad,” she said with a grin.

Her grin fell slightly when she noticed the redhead and the brunette walk towards their boat. The redhead seemed reluctant to join them and the brunette yanked on his arm. “Come on Ron, they’re filling up fast.”

Annoyance on his face, Ron grudgingly climbed into the boat. Glaring at Charlie, he snapped, “I’m not a jerk.”

It took a moment before she realized he was replying to her earlier remark. "You’re certainly acting like one,” Charlie said calmly. "I ran into you. It was an accident. You were rude about it. I’m not sure what your problem is, but—”

"Of course you wouldn't," he interjected sourly. "You're the Girl-Who-Lived, aren't you? You probably have everything you've ever wanted."

"You mean besides parents?"

"Well, it's not like you knew them.”

Hermione and Ron’s companion gasped. Charlie felt anger surge within her, because while it was true it hurt to hear. Without warning Ron flew out of the boat and landed in the water, where he flailed about madly.

The anger quickly settled to concern and Charlie hastily leaned over. He took her hand and promptly yanked her into the cold, dark water. “Honestly!” snapped Hermione. “You—what’s your name?”

“Harry.”

“I’m Hermione. Help me get them back in.”

The students of the surrounding boats stared in mixtures of shock, disgust and amusement as Hermione and Harry lugged Charlie and Ron back into the boat. Sopping wet, Ron panted for breath. “You did that on purpose!”

“I didn’t!” protested Charlie, though she knew it wouldn’t do much good. Her first impression already soiled his opinion of her. This only set it in stone.

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey. Hagrid led the group up the steps to the magnificent castle, where he knocked three times on the heavy wooden doors.

A stern-looking witch with black hair answered. She motioned them inside and ordered them to form a line outside another set of doors. "Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few minutes, you'll all be Sorted into one of the four Houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. These Houses will become your family for the next seven years.”

Her dark eyes roamed over each of them, freezing when they fell upon a soaked Ron and Charlie. "What happened?" she demanded.

“Fell out,” answered Charlie, shivering slightly.

“Yeah. Me too,” muttered Ron.

Minerva McGonagall frowned but said nothing as she cast a quick drying Charm upon them. "I will come for you in a moment. I suggest you clean yourselves up a bit before entering the Great Hall."

Ron and Charlie flinched at the pointed look she sent them. They waited outside the doors, nervous chatter in the air. Hermione bit down on her nails, brow furrowed deeply. Charlie crossed her fingers and hoped she would be in the same House as Hermione.

Eventually the professor returned for them. They walked down the middle of the Great Hall and towards the front of the room. Charlie stared in awe at the ghosts that hovered above the tables, amongst the floating candles and enchanted ceiling.

"Whoa," she whispered. "This place has everything!"

A stool was set up, along with an old frayed hat. Hundreds of eyes focussed on the group of eleven-year-olds as names were read from a long piece of parchment.

"Granger, Hermione!"

She bounded forward eagerly and jammed the Sorting Hat on her head. After a while, the hat screamed, _"Ravenclaw!"_

Hermione smiled brightly and went to sit down at the Ravenclaw table, which was applauding loudly. She cast Charlie a quick, encouraging thumbs-up. Neville Longbottom, clutching his toad tightly, made it into Gryffindor. Next up was the brunette, who turned out to be Harry Lupin.

Harry Lupin sat down on the stool, fingers twitching in nervous energy. The Sorting Hat deliberated for a couple of moments before shouting, _"Hufflepuff!"_

Harry quickly went to the Hufflepuff table. Charlie was not surprised in the least when both Draco and Pansy were Sorted into Slytherin.

"Potter, Charlotte!"

The idle conversation immediately stopped and the Great Hall fell silent. All eyes turned to stare at the Girl-Who-Lived.

She strode up to the stool and sat down. The Sorting Hat slipped over her head, the rim obstructing her vision slightly. Charlie did not mind, for at least she could avoid the prying eyes for a bit.

‘ _The famous Charlotte Potter. Not an attention-seeker, eh?’_

_‘Not really,’_ she admitted. _‘I think I liked it better when my name didn’t mean anything.’_

_‘Hmm. You’re an interesting case.’_

_‘I am?’_

_‘I could sort you into any House and you’d fit in well. But we don’t want you to merely fit in. We want you to excel.’_

_‘I’d really rather not be in Slytherin.’_

' _I think you’d perform well there. There’s much ambition within you. You have the capabilities of being a strong leader. Yes, Slytherin would be the best House for you.’_

_‘I don’t know…I don’t think we’d get along very well. I’d much rather be placed somewhere else. Perhaps Ravenclaw?’_

_‘Are you sure?’_

_‘Yes.’_

' _Very well. Let it be **Ravenclaw!** '_

_‘Thank you,’_ said Charlie in relief.

She removed the Sorting Hat and went to the Ravenclaw table, which was erupting with whistling cheers and shouts. She sat next to Hermione, who beamed and hugged her. “This is amazing!”

Charlie grinned. “It definitely is.”


	5. Foul Potions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet Ezra is my OC, and no, it's not a Fairy Tail reference. At the time I wrote this I didn't know what Fairy Tail was and it's a complete coincidence.

Filius Flitwick was not one to be caught off guard so easily. Years as an accomplished duellist had taught him to always be prepared for the unexpected. But this had been a shock, for he naturally assumed that Potter would be Sorted into the House her parents had belonged to during their time at Hogwarts.

"Congratulations Filius," McGonagall said grudgingly, slightly deflated at not having Charlotte Potter in her House. "If not Gryffindor, then I am glad it's Ravenclaw."

"Excuse me?" Pomona Sprout exclaimed indignantly. "What about Hufflepuff?"

“You know what I mean, Pomona.”

"Don't worry Minerva. At least you have a Weasley," Severus Snape said silkily. “And I know how _important_ it is for you to keep up the Weasley tradition. There's never an end to them, is there?"

McGonagall gave Snape a reprimanding glare. "For heaven's sake Filius!” she snapped in annoyance. “Stop gaping at her like she's some sort of animal on display!"

...

Charlie picked idly at her plate, conscious that many students were shooting occasional glances in her direction. "Is it just me or is the short professor staring at me?" she asked Hermione.

Overhearing the girl, Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater informed, "That's our Head of House and the Charms professor. I assume he's just a bit surprised. A lot of people were certain you'd make it into Gryffindor."

"Really?"

_Huh._ _I wonder if there were any bets placed on where I'd get Sorted._

"Of course! You are the Girl-Who-Lived, after all. People immediately assumed you'd be very brave," Penelope said matter-of-factly. "Which you probably are, but it doesn't hurt to have brains as well."

Charlie gave a nod and spooned some mashed potatoes into her mouth. The table was piled with rich food on golden plates, from roast beef to seasoned, cooked vegetables.

She glanced along the High Table, trying to guess which professors she would have this year. She spotted Quirrell sitting near the left end of the table, deep in conversation with a man with greasy black hair, the back of his turban facing her. As she was peering at them, the man’s eyes slid over and met hers.

Her scar suddenly gave a stinging pulse and she raised a hand to rub it. She diverted her attention back to the table. As quickly as the pain appeared it was gone and she frowned. “That was different,” she muttered in bewilderment. Her scar had never hurt her before.

“Um…Penelope, who is the man Professor Quirrell is talking to?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions. He’s actually an excellent Potions Master, but he’s always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. For some reason Dumbledore never gives him the position.”

“Huh.”

It was a strange coincidence, that her scar had hurt the second he met her gaze. But she pushed it to the back of her mind, deeming it some sort of headache. She was both excited and nervous and it had been a long journey.

Towards the end of dinner, an old wizard with a long silver beard stood up and everyone immediately went silent. He looked familiar and it took a moment before Charlie remembered where she had seen him before. He had been on one of her Chocolate Frog collectable cards.

"A new year has begun! To the first-years, welcome to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am your Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. I have just a few notices to address. The Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to _all_ students.”

Here he cast a glance at the redheaded twins, who quickly plastered on innocent smiles. "There is no magic allowed in the corridors,” Dumbledore continued. “Finally, and most importantly, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side of the castle is off-limits. Unless you wish to meet an untimely death, I suggest you heed my warning.”

There was a solemn, serious set to his expression and the student populace started to mutter uneasily. Gathering from the reactions of those around her, Charlie figured this was not a normal Hogwarts occurrence.

_First mental note of the year; stay away from the third-floor corridor,_ she thought. _I do wish to live, thank you._

"Do you know why that corridor is off-limits?” Hermione asked Penelope.

“I’m afraid not,” she answered. “To be honest, I don’t think that’s ever happened before.” She looked at them sternly. “But Professor Dumbledore has his reasons, so don’t go investigating.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Charlie quickly.

To end the night, the entire school sang the Hogwarts anthem. Charlie merely sat and listened, lips twitching at the uniqueness of the lyrics. When it finished all the prefects stood up and began to corral their newest Housemates together.

"All right first-years!" Penelope called over the bustle of the crowd. "Follow me! No straying off!”

Charlie followed her fellow Ravenclaws through the twisting corridors of the castle. Suits of armour lined the walls and the people in the portraits moved through their frames. Though she was tempted to take in the beauty of the castle, Charlie focussed on where they were going. There would be time for admiring later. She’d prefer not to get lost every time she attempted to get to her common room.

"These are the new Ravenclaws?" a soft voice spoke curiously.

Charlie looked up in surprise to see a pale female ghost studying them intently. Penelope smiled. “Yes. Everyone, this is the Grey Lady. She’s our House ghost.”

“Good evening,” the Grey Lady said politely.

She disappeared through the wall, leaving some of the students to gape after her. “Whatever you do, don’t ask how she died,” warned Penelope. “Well, it’s polite not to ask any ghost in this castle how they died, but most of them don’t mind. But the Grey Lady…” she trailed off with grimace. “Just don’t do it.”

Penelope approached a brass knocker shaped as an eagle.

“What is broken every time it is spoken?”

Charlie jumped as the eagle knocker spoke. Penelope placed her hands on her hips and faced the group of students. "Let's see what you've got. Come now, don't be shy. You've been Sorted into Ravenclaw for a reason."

Hermione shot her hand in the air and waved it about eagerly. Though Charlie also had the answer, she was more than happy to let Hermione field this one.

When Penelope nodded at the bushy-haired girl, Hermione said proudly, "The answer is silence.”

The door swung open and Penelope smiled. “Great job.”

They climbed the tight spiral staircase and entered the common room. “Whoa,” Charlie breathed in awe.

The room was wide and circular, with bookcases, tables and chairs covering the expanse of the floor. The windows arched gracefully, offering a spectacular view of the castle grounds. The walls were hung with blue and bronze silks and the domed ceiling was painted with stars, as well as the midnight blue carpet.

There was a white marble statue next to the entrance and one of the first-years asked, “Who’s that?”

"Rowena Ravenclaw," Penelope answered promptly. "She's the founder of the Ravenclaw House."

"Wonderful job Miss Clearwater!" a squeaky voice said.

Penelope blushed. "Thank you, Professor, but it was merely basic knowledge. I'll just leave the first-years with you then, shall I?"

The upper-year students filed past them and went into their dorms, leaving a small wizard with a shock of white hair to beam at them. "I am Professor Flitwick, your Head of House. I know you all must be tired after today’s journey, so I’ll briefly go over what I expect of you for the next seven years.

“I don't tolerate bullying of any sort. There will be no wandering about after curfew. I expect you all to appear for meals in the Great Hall at least twice a day. I expect all homework to be completed, unless there is a good reason otherwise. Your schedules are in your dorms. If you have any questions, my door is always open. My office is on the seventh-floor, near the West Tower. The upper-year students will also be more than happy to answer any questions you have. Tomorrow will be a busy day, so off to bed with you."

The first-years said goodnight to their Head of House and trooped off to their new rooms. Hermione and Charlie immediately claimed beds next to each other. Charlie gently ran her hand over the bedspread, the material soft against her fingers. The curtains around her bed were bronze and were currently tied to the bedposts.

Snowy was already curled against her pillows. Upon spotting her owner, she purred in greeting, slinking forwards and rubbing against her hand.

"Isn't this brilliant?" Hermione asked happily.

_A fancy bed, a real friend, and delicious food. Yes, it is indeed brilliant._

...

"Charlie! Wake up! It's time for breakfast!"

Charlie moaned and sat up, squinting against the sunlight that poured through the window. "Hermione? What time is it?"

"Breakfast time," she answered.

“You already said that. And it doesn’t answer my question.”

"Why does it matter? You can’t sleep in on your first day.”

“Fair enough.”

Charlie climbed out of bed and got dressed. She yanked a brush through her long hair, wrinkling her nose when it did nothing to tame it. But she was used to the wild curls and merely shrugged in resignation. She slung her bookbag over her shoulder and followed Hermione out of the common room, where she confidently led the way to the Great Hall.

“How do you know where to go?” Charlie asked in disbelief. 

“I studied a map of Hogwarts so I’d be prepared.”

“I’m glad I have you. Otherwise I’d probably never make it anywhere.”

On school days at the Dursleys, Charlie usually wasn’t permitted to have eggs. That was a weekend meal for her and most breakfasts consisted of oatmeal, cereal or a piece of fruit. And that was when they didn’t keep food from her as punishment. She didn’t mind, for she wasn’t all that hungry in the morning anyway. As everyone around her ate bacon, sausages, eggs and toast, she munched on an apple as she reviewed the first chapter in her History of Magic textbook.

Their first class that morning was Herbology with Professor Sprout. After a lesson on dealing with Devil’s Snare, they were assigned an essay on the origins of the plant.

The Ravenclaws had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and Charlie spotted Harry Lupin scribbling notes and muttering under his breath. She intended to catch him before he left the greenhouse, but he was gone the second the bell chimed.

"Hey! Harry! Wait up!" Charlie called, sprinting after him with Hermione in tow.

Upon hearing his name, he slowed down, "How do you like being in Hufflepuff so far?" Charlie asked as they crossed the grounds together.

“It’s all right, I guess.” Harry shrugged. “I was hoping for Gryffindor. I know that would have made Uncle Remus happy. He was in Gryffindor when he went to Hogwarts. But I didn’t make the cut.”

"But in order to get into Hufflepuff, loyalty is one of their strongest traits," Hermione pointed out. "That's just as important.”

"I know. And I guess better Hufflepuff than Slytherin.” Harry grimaced. “There’s a lot of slimy snakes in that lot.”

“I might know two of them,” Charlie muttered. In a louder tone, she said, “I know who you are and you know who I am. But for the sake of manners, I’m Charlotte Potter. But you can call me Charlie.”

“Harry Lupin.” He extended his hand and Charlie shook it.

“I’m sorry I made the boat ride to Hogwarts so eventful. I didn’t really mean to put Ron in the water.”

“It’s okay. He deserved it, to be honest. I don’t know what compelled him to say that. We honestly had a great time on the train. He helped me forget my homesickness. He’s actually really nice.”

“I think we got off on the wrong foot, and we just keep stepping on each other’s toes,” returned Charlie.

“Charlie, we better get to History of Magic,” interjected Hermione. “We’ll see you later, Harry?”

“Sure.”

Charlie waved goodbye and jogged after Hermione. _I hope she doesn’t do this for the entire school year. I’d prefer not to run to every class._

...

Charlie liked history. It was an interesting subject. She thought History of Magic would be exciting. And it probably would be, if it weren’t taught by a ghost with a monotone.

The worst part was that they had History of Magic with Slytherins. If Charlie thought she had made a bad first impression on Ron, it was nothing compared to how Pansy and Draco treated her. It was difficult to concentrate when parchment scrawled with rude notes kept hitting her in the head.

It didn’t help that Professor Binns was oblivious to everything that happened around him.

"What do we have next?" Charlie hissed to Hermione, who was diligently taking notes.

"Potions," she replied without looking up.

Another piece of parchment whacked her in the head. Charlie let it fall to the floor, not bothering to read it. _If I have Potions with those two, something is liable to explode._

...

"Why me?” Charlie muttered under her breath.

What were the odds that the other Potions class, the one with Slytherins and Gryffindors, was full? What were the odds that Draco and Pansy were picked with a few other Slytherins to be in _her_ Potions period with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs?

The dungeon door slammed shut and everyone went silent as Snape entered. He spotted Charlie sitting near the front of the class and he sneered. "So the famous Charlotte Potter has arrived."

Disgust dripped from his voice and the handful of Slytherins snickered. Charlie felt her cheeks colour slightly in embarrassment. _Well. He clearly doesn’t like me._

This was new, as she’d never had a teacher who disliked her before. Snape moved his gaze away from her as he began to pace. “Crafting potions is an art form,” he said a low voice. “It’s also dangerous work if not properly done. I am aware most of you will be a disappointment in this class, but you will follow the rules. You will obey my every order. If you dare to fool around in my class, I’ll be sure you’re out these castle doors the following second.”

He paused for a moment to let the message sink in. He then briefly went through roll-call before giving his wand a flick. The lesson for the day appeared on the blackboard. Without giving any advice he said, "Begin."

Charlie gathered the ingredients, sorting them and chopping the required items. She laid them out for Hermione, who followed the instructions to the letter. Charlie had perused her Potions textbook, but not enough that she was confident she could pull off the concocting without a mistake. And the last thing she wanted was to cause an explosion on the first day. Hermione, on the other hand, had practically memorized the lessons for the year.

"Making Miss Granger do all the work, eh Potter?" Snape asked as he suddenly appeared behind them, nearly making Charlie jump. "I bet you're used to everyone rushing to do your every whim."

"Not at all, sir!” said Hermione quickly. “Charlie is helping—"

"Don't make excuses for her, Miss Granger," he interrupted. He cast a glare at Hermione, who did not utter another word. "That'll be two points for lying and five points from Potter for doing nothing."

"But you didn’t tell us we couldn’t work together,” pointed out Charlie.

"Another five points from Ravenclaw for talking back.”

Charlie ducked her head, trying to keep her annoyance from showing on her face. “Sorry, sir.”

She had learned from the Dursleys when to pick her battles. She wasn’t a stranger to surrendering, even if she had every right to defend herself.

There was a loud popping sound and a second later green liquid began to bubble from a cauldron, splattering around the room. A horrible smell filled the air and people began to gag, pulling up the collar of their robes to cover their noses.

"Idiot!" hissed Snape. He gave his wand a wave and advanced upon Harry, who recoiled at his fury. "Can you not read? Didn't the instructions specifically say to take the cauldron _off_ the fire before adding the porcupine quills?"

Harry was too preoccupied by the boils sprouting up on his face to defend himself. He scratched them madly. Pansy gave a loud, rude laugh. “I don’t know why you bother to wear glasses if you’re illiterate.”

"Probably because he needs them to see,” snapped Charlie, turning a glare on the smug Slytherin. “And I don’t think _you’re_ faring any better. Pretty sure the potion isn’t supposed to hiss like that.”

Pansy’s cauldron was indeed making a high-pitched hissing sound. Scowling, Draco snapped in her defense, “Shut up, Potter. Don’t talk like you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I don’t. Nobody bothered to teach it to me.”

The not-so-subtle dig was enough to cause Snape to intervene in the bickering and snarl, "Silence, insolent child! _Lupin_ , stop scratching." Harry’s surname was hissed with venom and Harry hastily lowered his hands. "Miss Granger, help him to the infirmary. Potter, you have detention with me this evening. Maybe some hard labour will deflate that ego.”

Hermione sprang up and was immediately by Harry’s side. She set a gentle hand on his shoulder and escorted him out of the classroom. Charlie turned to her textbook, sullenly continuing with her work.

Yes, she did know when to pick _her_ battles. Unfortunately, she never knew when to _not_ pick battles on behalf of others.

…

Charlie was quick to leave at the end of Potions class. She was already dreading how she was going to get through the next seven years with his intense dislike. But she had managed to successfully brew the potion and the only criticism Snape could find was that the colour was a shade lighter than it should have been.

Before lunch she paid Harry a visit in the infirmary. “How are you doing?” she asked, hovering near the edge of his cot.

“I could be better,” muttered Harry. His arms were stuck magically to his side to prevent him from scratching. “Thanks for standing up for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But that was completely unfair. He didn’t explain anything. He just told us to do it.”

“He’s a prat,” said Harry bitterly.

“Seems like it,” agreed Charlie. “How long do you have to stay here?”

“Until the boils go away. It might take a couple of hours.”

“Do you want me to bring you some food?”

Harry shook his head. “No thanks. Madam Pomfrey said she’d get me some lunch in a bit. She’ll have to remove the spell and monitor me while I eat.”

Charlie raised a brow. “Have you been scratching?”

Harry sent her a look. “I wouldn’t be stuck like this if I listened to her.”

“Fair point.”

She bid Harry goodbye and went to the Great Hall. Hermione sent her a stern glare the second she sat next to her. “I can’t believe you said that. You really should know better than to talk back to a teacher.”

Charlie could only shrug. It had been instinctual rather than intentional. She’d never had a teacher who openly bullied students and for a moment she’d forgotten who she was talking to. He sounded too much like the Dursleys and she fell into an old, familiar pattern.

“It slipped out. Besides, you have to admit he was being unfair.”

Hermione’s gaze softened a bit. “Well…yes, he was. But you should be careful of what you say. I asked about Professor Snape while you were visiting Harry. Apparently, he hates every student except his Slytherins. He’s the Head of Slytherin House.”

“Noted.”

“How is Harry, by the way? Is he feeling any better?”

“Feeling the same, I think.” 

A hand fell on her shoulder and Ron whispered in her ear, "Thanks for giving us a boost for the House Cup, Charlotte _._ "

Charlie usually had a great deal of patience. But her first day was stressing her out. She had a teacher who despised her and was clearly going out of his way to target her. Pansy and Draco took every opportunity to give her a hard time. At least back at Privet Drive, she only had Dudley to contend with. Her aunt and uncle, for the most part, preferred to interact with her as little as possible. Now she had four people who seemed to delight in making her miserable. Ron’s taunting remark caused agitation to build in her gut and her stress and frustration suddenly peaked.

Ron’s smug grin disappeared when the bowl of gravy next to Charlie’s elbow exploded and doused him. The Ravenclaws surrounding them yelped in shock and Ron spluttered in surprise. “You did it again!” he said in outrage, gravy dripped from his hair.

“It’s a good look for you,” snapped Charlie, too upset to feel repentant.

Furious, Ron grabbed a bowl of salad and dumped it over Charlie’s head. The dressing blurring her vision slightly, Charlie reached out and snagged a sandwich. She ignored Hermione’s frantic tugging on her arm as she stood up and pressed it firmly into Ron’s face.

_“Cease and desist this instant!”_

The bellow was more than enough to make Ron and Charlie freeze. McGonagall swept down from the High Table with Flitwick scurrying after her. Expression hard with displeasure, McGonagall pointed towards the Great Hall doors.

“My office at once, Mr. Weasley!”

“Miss Potter, we shall accompany them,” instructed Flitwick.

Ron and Charlie moved quickly towards the doors, keenly aware of the stares and laughter directed at them. They followed the two professors to McGonagall’s office, where they lowered into the plush seats situated across from her desk.

When neither of them made any move to speak, McGonagall said coolly, “An explanation for your atrocious behaviour, if you please.”

“She started it,” muttered Ron moodily, wiping at the gravy on his cheek.

“Is this true, Miss Potter?” asked Flitwick sternly.

Charlie slid her gaze to Ron, who was staring steadily at the floor, foot shifting nervously. “I didn’t mean it,” she said at last. “The gravy exploded. That sort of thing happens to me sometimes.” She purposefully didn’t mention that it occurred whenever she was feeling strong, negative emotions. She was calm now and she had no desire for Ron to get into trouble, however rude he was to her.

“Did she actively throw the gravy at you?” McGonagall directed at Ron, wanting to confirm the girl’s story.

Ron gave a reluctant shake of his head. “She didn’t even touch it.”

“And you didn’t stop to consider that it was an act of accidental magic? Which all young wizards and witches are capable?”

“I thought she did it on purpose, so I just…”

Ron trailed off and McGonagall raised a brow. “Reacted? To something that was out of her control?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You acted impulsively and shamefully. That is not how we treat our fellow students. What were you doing at the Ravenclaw table anyhow?”

“He was asking me a question,” replied Charlie smoothly, causing Ron to stare at her in surprise. “He wanted my help with a homework question. I didn’t get a chance to answer before the gravy went volcanic. I guess he took that as a no.”

“You certainly didn’t help matters by retaliating,” pointed out Flitwick. “You only escalated the situation instead of attempting to explain yourself.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“And what do you say, Mr. Weasley?” said McGonagall sharply.

“I’m sorry,” spoke Ron, not quite making eye-contact with Charlie.

“Even if this incident was a misunderstanding, we expect better behaviour. You will be civil with each other from now on, correct?” asked Flitwick.

“Correct,” they said in unison.

“I think serving a detention with Madam Pince will assist you in remembering that you do not start food fights in the Great Hall,” said McGonagall dryly.

“I agree,” said Flitwick with a nod. “I will set it up. Mr. Weasley, Miss Potter, I will notify you when you are to report to the library.” Sending Charlie a disapproving look he said, “I’ll be sure it doesn’t conflict with the one you have this evening with Professor Snape. I am aware that first days can be difficult, but I expect you won’t do anything to warrant more detentions.”

Flinching at that, Charlie said, “Yes, Professor.”

“Now that that’s settled, Mr. Weasley, take a moment to clean yourself before returning to the Great Hall.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Ron stood and moved at near lightning speed out of the office. Flitwick turned to Charlie and remarked, “You too, Miss Potter. See if you can remove the salad cream from your hair before your next class.”

Charlie left the office at a slower pace, gingerly touching the blobs of beige dressing clumped in her raven strands. _This is not going to come out easily,_ she thought with a tired sigh.

...

The lecture Hermione gave her in the common room after class did nothing to help Charlie’s mood. But she couldn’t blame Hermione, for there was a shred of guilt slithering in her stomach. Her first day at Hogwarts and she already earned two detentions and lost a chunk of House points.

She had just enough energy to complete the task Snape gave her during evening detention. She scrubbed the dried ingredients off the desktops and from the bottoms of cauldrons. Her knuckles rubbed raw against the hard material but she didn’t complain.

The impromptu food fight was more material for Snape to try and bait her into an argument. But Charlie was alone and the only one he was harassing. It was easy to keep quiet, to nod in the right places and respond politely when appropriate. The sudden, unflappable calmness caused Snape some pause and he regarded the girl with narrowed eyes.

“If you think this act of politeness fools me, you are sorely mistaken,” he eventually growled. “Your disrespect will not be restrained for long. You’ve already shown a disregard for authority.”

He left her alone after that, to Charlie’s relief and triumph. After the desks and cauldrons were sparkling and blemish-free, she returned to her dorm. The next morning, she received a notice from Flitwick about her detention with Pince, which would occur on Saturday afternoon, when she and Ron did not have classes.

And so there she was, the golden sunlight streaming through the library windows, collecting books abandoned on tables and chairs. The wizarding classification system for a library was extraordinarily different from what she was used to, so she let Ron take care of shelving. Madam Pince frequently came to check on them, ensuring they were treating her precious books with care.

After half an hour of work and Ron not saying a word, Charlie decided to offer an olive branch. "The redheaded twins I’ve seen sitting at the Gryffindor table with you. Are they your brothers?”

"Yeah. Fred and George. They’re third-years. I’ve got five older brothers and a younger sister," he mumbled back.

“That must be fun,” said Charlie. “I wish I had a sibling.”

Ron shrugged. “It’s okay. Nothing I own is new. But you probably don't have that problem, do you?"

There was a note of jealousy in his voice and Charlie glanced at him in bewilderment. She wondered what exactly the wizarding world perceived her life to be. Most seemed to be aware she was raised in the Muggle world. But they didn’t know she had zero clues about her heritage until recently. They didn’t know her aunt and uncle, who never bothered to get her anything brand-new. They didn’t know about her cousin, who tormented her on a daily basis.

"I think you all have an imaginary vision of what my life was like growing up,” she finally said. "I didn't even know I was a witch until after my Hogwarts letter was delivered. I’ve worn hand-me-down clothes my whole life.” She jerked up the hem of her robe, revealing the baggy jeans that were bunched up at the cuff to keep her from tripping over the material. “I’d be fine with boy clothes, but I wished they’d at least fit.”

Staring at the saggy clothing with a frown, Ron asked, “Wait, you’ve had to wear boy clothes your whole life?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Charlie evasively. As much as she wanted to make peace, there was only so much truth she was willing to deliver. “What I’m trying to say is that my life hasn’t been easy. Far from it, actually. I’m not sure why you dislike me so much, but if it’s because you think I’m arrogant and spoiled, I’m really not.”

“You two!” Pince suddenly appeared behind them, practically oozing displeasure. “This is not social hour! This is a punishment. Continue your work.”

Ron and Charlie completed the rest of their detention in silence. The redhead was quick to leave, not giving Charlie a chance to speak to him further. She gave a shrug and went to her common room, hoping that things between them would improve. The less enemies she had at her new school, the better.

...

The autumn breeze rustled the leaves across the finely-trimmed grass of the Quidditch pitch. Charlie eyed the broomstick resting by her feet, apprehension swelling within her. "They can't be serious. They really want us to _fly_ on these things?"

“Of course,” replied Hermione. "I've read quite a bit on the subject of flying, but I don’t know how helpful it will be. I’ve never been very good at athletic activities.”

"I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“It’s not hard,” Harry, officially boil-free, said in an attempt to soothe her worries.

“Considering you were raised in the wizarding world, I think you might be biased,” pointed out Charlie with a smile.

“Trust me, there are plenty of pure-bloods and half-bloods who fly horribly,” replied Harry. “So even if you don’t have a knack for it, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is, since I have to be able to fly a broom in order to pass this class,” said Hermione seriously.

They fell silent when their instructor, Madam Hooch, blew on her whistle. “Get beside your brooms, everyone,” she ordered. “Put out your right hand and say up!”

Lifting her arm, Charlie stared at her broomstick and called strongly, “Up!”

It soared directly into her hand, startling her. The other brooms trembled on the ground, some rising meekly into the air before dropping. Harry was successful on his second try. Hooch gave Charlie and Harry an approving nod. “Good work, Miss Potter, Mr. Lupin. Ten points to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.”

Hermione beamed at her and Harry flashed her a thumbs-up with his free hand. Charlie grinned with pride. _This is going much better than I expected._

It took a while, but eventually all of the students managed to summon their brooms to their hands. Their next instruction was to mount their broom and kick off with a hard push. Charlie wasn’t prepared for the lift off and hunched forwards, gripping the handle of her broomstick.

“Don’t lean forwards too much, Miss Potter!” called Hooch. “Yes, that’s it, move back a bit. There you are.”

“Great job, Charlie!” said Hermione, who hadn’t managed to get into the air.

Charlie hovered a foot above the ground. She kicked out her legs, marvelling in the strange and foreign experience.

“Miss Abbott!” Hooch said sharply. “That is high enough! Come down this instant!”

Everyone turned to see Hannah Abbott steadily rising into the air. “I can’t!” she cried.

“Don’t panic, child, just concentrate—”

Hooch did not get a chance to finish her advice. Hannah’s broom suddenly launched higher in the air and zoomed off. Charlie’s eyes widened as Hannah’s rapidly growing terror caused her to lose control, sending her careening straight for the castle walls.

“Someone hand me a broom, now!” bellowed Hooch.

But Charlie was already moving. She soared after Hannah, distantly aware of her name being shouted. She didn’t fully register the warning, for her gaze was locked on the Hufflepuff in need. Hannah’s shrieks echoed in air and spurred Charlie to move faster. She quickly gained and positioned herself below Hannah, who was seconds away from impact against the cold, unforgiving stone.

“Hold on tight!” she called.

Hannah clung to her broom as Charlie performed a roll, slamming her foot against the handle of the blonde’s broom. The broom swung vertically and flew parallel to the castle, inches away from the walls. Charlie came to a screeching halt and felt her elbow knock against a large glass window. Without missing a beat, she went after Hannah, who was still flying upwards, and grabbed the back of her broom to force her into a halt.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked anxiously, settling a hand against Hannah’s heaving back.

Her heart pounding madly in her chest and her face white, Hannah gasped, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Charlie shrunk back when Hooch flew up to meet them, yellow eyes flashing. “Um—”

“What was the first rule of this class?” Hooch demanded.

“Don’t fly any higher or further than you tell us,” said Charlie softly.

“Defying that rule is risking expulsion.”

“Oh, please don’t,” said Hannah pleadingly. “She came to my rescue.”

“Which is my job, Miss Abbott, not a student’s,” said Hooch firmly. “I will be informing Professor Flitwick about this, Miss Potter. For now, you are to sit out the rest of the lesson. Return to the ground.”

With Hooch’s help, Hannah was returned to the grass with Charlie following behind. The gathered Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs stared at Charlie with open mouths and wide eyes. Charlie set her broom down and shuffled off to sit in the stands.

“That was amazing,” breathed Harry.

“How did she do that?” asked Hermione in stunned disbelief.

_Talent,_ thought Hooch, excitement growing within her. _Pure, raw talent._

...

“She did _what_?”

Hooch merely leaned against the door of Flitwick’s office, watching as he sprang from his stack of cushions and began to pace the length of the room. Anger and hope conflicted within him; anger that Potter had once again landed herself in trouble, but hopeful that if she was as good a flyer as Hooch proclaimed, she would be an invaluable addition to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

“Only a few days into her first year and she’s causing quite a bit of mischief,” he muttered. “I don’t think any of my Eagles have given me such trouble in so short a time.”

“I would have been angrier with her if it was done out of brash foolishness. But she had noble intentions and I can’t express enough that her flying was phenomenal.”

“Was it really?”

“Her control, her speed, her movements—it was remarkable for a first-year. It was natural skill.”

“Sounds a bit like her father,” said Flitwick softly.

There was a brief solemn silence before Hooch persuaded, “Then think of how she will feel when she has the chance to continue her father’s footsteps.”

That was more than enough for Flitwick’s resolve to crumble. “All right, I’ll summon her right away.”

If Hooch thought Potter belonged on the Quidditch team, then who was he to say otherwise?

…

"Professor McGonagall, may I please borrow Miss Ezra for a moment?"

McGonagall paused in her demonstration and regarded Flitwick, who held her classroom door open as he peered inside. A girl with short, spiky black hair and violet eyes glanced at her Head of House with curiosity.

“I suppose," McGonagall answered with a brisk nod. “Go on, Miss Ezra.”

The student walked out into the corridor and noticed Charlotte Potter lingering near Flitwick, seeming just as confused as she was by this visit. “Yes Professor?” she asked, eyeing Charlie with interest.

"I believe I may have found you a Seeker,” Flitwick informed.

Charlie’s worries about being expelled or suspended had dissolved when Flitwick took her to McGonagall’s classroom rather than to the Headmaster’s office. But this was the last thing she had been expecting and her eyes widened in shock.

“Really?” the spiky-haired girl exclaimed in excitement. 

"Indeed. Miss Potter, this is Scarlet Ezra; captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team."

Scarlet clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling with delight. "This is amazing! It’s been hopeless trying to find a decent Seeker.”

“Or perhaps your standards are a bit too high to be satisfied,” chided Flitwick gently. When Scarlet shot him a wounded look, he smiled. “But Miss Potter comes highly recommended by Madam Hooch. Apparently, her movements are precise, smooth and fully controlled.”

“That is high praise!” Extending her hand, Scarlet said cheerfully, “Welcome to the team, Charlotte.”

When she recovered from her shock, Charlie grasped Scarlet’s hand and gave a firm shake. “You can call me Charlie, if you’d like. And thanks. I’d love to join.”

Flitwick beamed. "Excellent! Miss Ezra will teach you the rules this evening, after supper. How does that sound?”

“Perfect!” declared Scarlet and Charlie nodded.

“Right then. Back to class, Miss Ezra. You as well, Miss Potter.”

As Charlie bid Scarlet goodbye, she was overcome with relief. Being invited to join the Quidditch team was much better than getting expelled.

_Note to self. Stay out of trouble. Next time, I’m probably not going to get so lucky._


	6. Meeting Fluffy

Hermione was shocked and delighted by Charlie’s news when she told her best friend at dinner. "That’s incredible! There hasn't been a first-year on a Hogwarts team in a century."

Hermione had been quoting _Hogwarts: A History_ over the course of the past few days. Charlie had borrowed Hermione’s copy to peruse at her leisure, only to discover Hermione had already told her the important bits. But she had come across the Quidditch section herself and was in awe of the fantastic sport.

“I only hope I’ll do as well as everyone is expecting,” replied Charlie. Flitwick, Hooch and Scarlet already seemed to think she was going to be a fantastic Seeker. It was hard to have confidence when she had zero experience playing the game.

“You were brilliant,” said Hermione sincerely. “Your first time on a broomstick and it was if you’d been flying your whole life.”

“It felt that way,” said Charlie thoughtfully, idly moving some carrots around her plate. “I didn’t really have to think. Somehow, I knew what to do. Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so. It’s in your blood, after all.” When Charlie sent her a confused look, Hermione said in surprise, “Professor Flitwick didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Smiling, Hermione stood. “Come with me.”

Bewildered, Charlie followed Hermione out of the Great Hall. They stopped in front of the gleaming glass trophy case situated near the entrance. Hermione pointed out a wooden plaque nestled amongst the gold and silver cups. At the top was the Gryffindor crest, and below it was a list of names of people who made up a Gryffindor Quidditch team in the 1970s. Charlie’s heart soared when her father’s name glinted at her.

“He was a Seeker,” she said softly, lightly placing her hand against the glass, fingers longing to brush against the engraved letters. “Just like me.”

Setting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, Hermione said warmly, “I know you’ll be great. There’s still some time before you have to meet Scarlet. Do you want to go to the common room and do some homework?”

“Sure.”

As they headed for the Ravenclaw common room, Hermione asked hopefully, “Do you think I could come watch? Reading about Quidditch is nice but I would like to see it in real life.”

"I'm sure Scarlet won't mind," Charlie answered.

A half an hour later they were snug in the squash armchairs, textbooks opened in their laps. Charlie kept an eye on the clock so she would not be late for her meeting. Snowy stretched out on the arm of Charlie’s chair, purring when her owner scratched her behind the ears.

When she finished her Potions essay, Charlie set her work aside. “Finished. I think I’m going to head out now. Are you ready?”

“One second.” Hermione scrawled a few more words before setting down her quill. “Yes, I’m done. Let’s go.”

They had taken only a few steps out of Ravenclaw Tower when an owl soared up to them. It landed on Charlie’s shoulder and held out a note. Surprised, Charlie read the messy handwriting and smiled. “Hagrid wants to invite me over for tea. Do you want to come?”

"I'd love too. From what you’ve said, Hagrid seems like a very nice man.”

"He is," Charlie said with a fond smile.

They returned to the Entrance Hall but came to a halt when someone shouted, “Potter!”

She turned around and eyed the approaching Pansy and Draco suspiciously. "Yes?”

"How come you're not expelled?" Pansy demanded. "We heard all about your little show-off routine during flying class.”

“Flint’s been talking about how Dumbledore gave you permission to join the Ravenclaw Quidditch team,” spoke Draco with a scowl.

"He’s not wrong.”

“That’s not fair!” hissed Pansy. “Why should you get special treatment? Draco’s a far better flyer than you could ever hope to be.”

Charlie shrugged. “I guess he’ll have to wait until next year to prove that to me.”

Draco bristled. “I’d destroy you on the Quidditch pitch. In fact, I could destroy you at every aspect of magic.”

“I’m sure you could,” said Charlie with a roll of her eyes.

“He could,” said Pansy hotly. “He’d have you begging for mercy during a duel.”

“You know what Pansy, that’s a great idea.” Draco smirked at Charlie. “What do you say, Potter? A wizard’s duel. Tonight at midnight.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what a wizard’s duel consisted of. Hermione noticed the calculating stare on her friend’s face and she cried in horror, “Charlie, don’t even think about it!”

“Shut it,” said Pansy coldly. “We’re not talking to you. Unless you want to be her second.”

“Fine,” said Charlie at last.

"Pansy will be my second," Draco announced, slinging an arm around Pansy's shoulders. "Is _she_ going to be yours?”

Draco sent Hermione a sneer and the bushy-haired girl said passionately, “I will not take any part in this!”

Still not entirely clear on what exactly a second was, Charlie’s green eyes flitted over Draco’s shoulder. The Great Hall doors eased open and Harry stepped out, Ron following behind him.

“Harry will be my second,” she announced.

The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor screeched to a halt and whipped their heads to gape at her. Draco and Pansy burst into scathing laughter. “This will be the shortest duel in history,” snickered Pansy.

“We’ll duel in the trophy room. See you at midnight, Potter.”

The two sauntered off and when they were out of earshot Harry wailed, “Why did you do that?!”

When Ron looked ready to murder her, Charlie held up her hands in a placating manner. “First off, there’s not going to be any duel.” She felt her lips twitch at Hermione’s gasp of relief. “Secondly, what exactly is a second?”

His worry diminishing now that the threat of a duel was gone, Harry explained, "It means if you get killed in the duel, _I_ take your place."

“Ah. Well, good thing we’re not fighting.”

“What do you mean you’re not fighting?” said Ron incredulously. “You can’t just agree to a duel and then back out! That’s coward’s play.”

“Ron, I’m pretty sure Draco and Pansy were setting me up.”

“Bollocks,” declared Ron. “I bet they can’t wait to brag about how they defeated Charlotte Potter. If you don’t show up, they’re going to call you a wimp.”

“I’ve been called worse,” said Charlie dryly.

Ron gave a snort of disgust. “Fine. If you won’t fight them, I will.”

“What?”

He didn’t flinch at the three disbelieving cries. “Yeah, it works out. I’ve been meaning to get them back anyway, just haven’t had the chance. They stole Neville’s Remembrall in our flying class and they still have it.”

“Then tell a teacher,” said Hermione furiously. “Don’t go risking your neck!”

“It’s not even going to be a proper duel,” said Ron dismissively. “Just a bunch of sparks flying everywhere.”

“Ron, this is a bad idea,” insisted Charlie.

“Whatever. Don’t you have a Quidditch practice?” asked Ron with a scowl. “I guess having the Potter name _does_ get you some special treatment.”

He stormed off with that and Charlie let out an aggravated moan. She moved to go after him but Hermione set a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t miss your first practice because he’s being an idiot,” she said firmly. “Harry, talk some sense into him!”

“How did I get roped into this?” asked Harry in annoyance. But he hurried after his friend and Charlie reluctantly pushed open the doors. She stepped into the autumn air, the setting sun a glimmering backdrop against the landscape.

“You don’t really think he’ll do it?” asked Hermione.

“I don’t know Ron too well, but from my short interactions with him I’d have to say yes,” she said grimly.

As they approached the Quidditch pitch, Charlie twisted her worried frown into a smile. Scarlet waved at her. “Hey, Charlie! Who is this?”

"That's Hermione," Charlie introduced. "I hope that it's okay that she stays and watches."

"She's a Ravenclaw?"

"Yes."

"Then I have no problem." Scarlet grinned at Hermione. “Have a seat and get ready to watch the fun.”

Hermione hurried over to the stands, where she situated herself in the front row. Hands on her hips, Scarlet said, “This is technically your first practice, but it’s mostly just a review. I want to make sure you know the rules of the game. After that, I’m going to let you chase the Golden Snitch for a bit, let you get the feel of being a Seeker.”

“Sounds good.”

“What do you know so far?”

“I’ve read a bit about Quidditch. There’s a Keeper, who protects the hoops.” Charlie gestured towards the three goalposts at one end of the pitch. “There’s the Chaser, who use a Quaffle to score points by throwing it through the goals. There’s the Beaters, who protect their teammates from the Bludgers. And then there’s me, the Seeker. If I get the Golden Snitch, I get Ravenclaw a hundred and fifty points. The game ends when the Snitch is caught.”

“Great job,” said Scarlet, impressed. She knelt down and lifted the lid of the battered brown case resting near her feet. "Here are the balls. The red ball is called a Quaffle. Those two that are trying to break free are the Bludgers.”

Charlie eyed the quivering balls, which were straining against their straps. “Those do not look pleasant.”

“They aren’t,” said Scarlet feelingly. “They’re terrible. And they _hurt_.”

“Has, uh, anyone gotten killed by playing this game?” asked Charlie in morbid curiosity.

"Nah. The professors are really good at keeping us safe. The worst you’ll get from a Bludger is a broken bone or a nasty headache." Scarlet reached down and plucked out a tiny golden ball. Transparent wings unfolded and began to flutter. "This is what you need to focus on.”

“Got it.”

Scarlet beamed. "Awesome! I was thinking that you could meet the team tomorrow after dinner. Flitwick already booked us the field. We don’t usually have a practice this early but I figured it would be good to get in sync as soon as possible.”

“I’ll be here. Thanks, Scarlet.”

“No, thank you,” she returned. “With you as our Seeker, we’re going to crush the competition. Now let’s grab a school broom and see what you got.”

_And if I wasn’t feeling the pressure before, I definitely am now,_ thought Charlie.

...

As her dormmates snoozed peacefully, Charlie tossed and turned in her bed. Snowy had long since jumped off the mattress and went to curl up on the carpet, tired of her owner’s restless movements. Despite the late hour Charlie was alert and her eyes seemed unable to move from the clock hanging across from the beds. The hands strayed closer to midnight and the anxious feeling in Charlie’s gut only deepened.

She didn’t see Harry or Ron again after her meeting with Scarlet, so she had no clue if Ron was still planning on sneaking to the third-floor corridor. She had full confidence that Pansy and Draco had no intentions of duelling her or anyone who happened to stray to the trophy room after curfew. But she feared Ron would get caught in their trap and despite how he treated her, she didn’t want him to get in trouble.

Charlie ripped off her blankets and climbed out of bed. The knot in her stomach was only growing larger and she would not sleep until she found out what was going on. She pulled on a dark blue sweater over her pajama top. She jammed her bare feet into her sneakers and grabbed her wand.

“What are you doing?”

Charlie turned to see Hermione peering at her from her bed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Rubbing at her eyes, Hermione said softly, “It’s okay. I wasn’t really sleeping. You haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m going.”

“You can’t!” hissed Hermione immediately, the lingering shreds of fatigue overcome by panic. “If you get caught, you’re going to get expelled!”

“I have to,” insisted Charlie. “If Ron is going to fall for Draco and Pansy’s trap, I have to try to make sure he doesn’t get caught.”

“And what if Harry managed to talk him out of it?” demanded Hermione. “It’ll all be for nothing.”

“I’ll feel better knowing for certain. And I’m going to try really hard not to get caught.”

She started for the stairs but paused when Hermione said quickly, “Wait. I’ll come with you.”

“No, you really don’t need to,” said Charlie.

“I’m certainly not going to be able to sleep now, so I might as well.”

Though Charlie didn’t want to drag Hermione down with her should something go wrong, she was relieved to have her best friend come with her. “Thank you.”

Hermione quickly got ready and soon the two girls set off. They exited Ravenclaw Tower and snuck down the empty corridors. Shadows flickered across the walls and they jumped at every noise the castle made.

“Here we are,” said Hermione nervously as they approached the trophy room, where the remainder of Hogwarts trophies were housed.

“ _Lumos_ ,” whispered Charlie. The tip of her wand lit up and she eased open the door. The light chased away the shadows and illuminated two figures standing in the corner of the room. Jumping in fright, Ron and Harry whipped out their wands.

“Relax, it’s just us,” spoke Charlie softly.

“I can’t believe you actually came!” said Hermione disapprovingly.

“Like you can talk,” snapped Ron. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried and I couldn’t sleep,” replied Charlie. “I guess for good reason.”

“I tried to convince him not to show up,” defended Harry. “But he was determined. I couldn’t let him come by himself.”

“How long have you been waiting?” asked Hermione.

“Five minutes,” muttered Ron, glaring down at his shoes.

“Honestly,” huffed Hermione. “It’s like Charlie said. It was all meant to be a trick.”

“They could be running late,” said Ron stubbornly.

“Trust me, if Draco and Pansy really wanted the chance to humiliate me, they’d be here on time,” said Charlie feelingly.

“Come along, Mrs. Norris. The brats should be in here somewhere.”

The four kids turned to stare at the door at the other end of the room, horror in their gazes when the doorknob began to rattle. They sprinted as silently as they could to the door closest to them. Harry and Ron reached the doorway at the same time. To avoid a collision Ron veered sideways, slamming his shoulder into the doorframe and letting out a yelp of pain.

Charlie grabbed Hermione by the arm and forcibly shoved Ron and Harry into the corridor just as Filch burst into the trophy room. Catching a glimpse of a pale hand yanking the door shut, he bellowed, “I’ve got you now!”

Thrusting her wand at the door, Charlie hissed, “ _Colloportus!”_

There was a thud as Filch crashed into the other side. He swore viciously and the four kids wasted no time in racing down the corridor. There was only the sound of frantic breathing as they ran as hard and fast as they could. Eventually they found their way to the Charms classroom on the third-floor corridor and stopped for a break.

“That was a close one,” gasped Harry.

“We have to get back to our dorms,” said Hermione, looking over her shoulder with frightened eyes. “Oh, if Filch finds us…”

A white blur sped out of the classroom across the corridor and they all cried out in shock. Peeves hovered above them, black eyes glinting with mischief. “Ooh, naughty, naughty!” he chortled gleefully. “Runty first-years out of bed!”

“I know,” said Charlie, one hand holding her side as she slumped against the wall. “We’ll get to our dorms in a second. Just need a minute.”

“I ought to get Filch. He’d teach you a good lesson.”

“Please don’t,” begged Hermione.

“How will you stop me?” taunted Peeves.

“Well, we can’t,” said Charlie, feeling the exhaustion creep up on her. “So I suppose we’ll have a lot more running in our future.”

With a wide, wicked grin, Peeves asked, “How fast can you run?”

Harry’s face fell. “Oh, no, Peeves, don’t—”

_“First-years out after curfew! First-years right here! Come and get them Filchy!”_

Peeves bellow rang throughout the castle, so shrill it made Charlie’s ears ring. “Come on,” she ordered her friends. She led the way past Peeves and raced all the way down to the end of the corridor. There was only one door and Charlie grasped the knob. It was locked.

Sudden realization striking her, she said nervously, “This is the forbidden third-floor corridor, isn’t it?” She could hear footsteps pounding against the floor, getting closer by the second. “It’s either this or possible expulsion,” she declared.

“Fine, whatever,” cried Ron, though his expression was fearful.

“This is not going to go well,” said Harry grimly.

Hermione aimed her wand at the lock and whispered the Unlocking Charm. The door eased open and they all stormed inside, shutting it securely behind them. They held their breath, ears pressed against the wood. Filch and Peeves had a brief conversation, in which Peeves refused to tell the caretaker where they had gone. Eventually Filch stormed off and the corridor fell silent once more.

Silent except for the deep, heavy, wet breathing. Suddenly conscious of the hot air against her neck, Charlie slowly looked over her shoulder.

“Bloody hell,” squeaked Ron.

A massive Cerberus towered over them. The three sets of eyes stared down at them and the creature growled threateningly. Salvia dripped from its mouths and its paws shifted. Sharp white teeth glinted at them and it looked seconds away from an attack.

" _Run!_ " Harry shouted.

Hermione threw open the door and they practically toppled out. Charlie slammed the door shut behind her just as the beast lunged, one of the heads smashing against the wood. _“Colloportus,”_ said Charlie, heart pounding madly in her chest.

Though the unexpected event had shocked them all to the core, they were too tired and spooked to speak about what they just witnessed. In unison they broke into a sprint, all of them desperate to return to the safety of their dorms.

The Ravenclaws reached their common room, the silver stars of the ceiling glinting down at them. Hermione collapsed into a chair and let out a weary moan. “A Cerberus.”

“Well,” said Charlie weakly, “at least we know why the third-floor corridor is forbidden.”

"Did you not see what it was standing on?"

She paused for a moment. Now that the adrenaline rush was dying, she was able to review the terrifying incident a bit more clearly. She pictured the giant paws and what peeked from under them. “Yeah, a trapdoor.”

“I think that creature is there for a reason. And whatever that reason is, it’s under that trapdoor.”

An image of the small package Hagrid had smuggled out of Gringotts flashed through Charlie’s mind. “I think you’re right,” she said.

They trudged off to bed and but if Charlie couldn’t fall asleep before she certainly couldn’t now. For most of the night, one thought plagued her mind. What was so important that a Cerberus was needed to guard it?

...

After several minutes of pushing his eggs around his plate, Ron finally gave up and set his fork down. He was too caught up in last night’s events. He had so many questions and zero answers. But Harry wasn’t at the Hufflepuff table and he wasn’t comfortable approaching Charlie and Hermione. They’d all nearly landed in serious trouble because he refused to listen to Charlie, who still came to check on him despite how he’d treated her.

“Oi, what’s with the face?”

Ron glanced at Fred, who was peering at him in concern. “Nothing.”

“You look troubled.” George studied his little brother’s face, at the faint bags under his eyes. “Are you homesick?”

“No, not really. Just tired.”

“You need energy. Eat some more food.”

Ron held out a hand to prevent George from pouring some more bacon onto his plate. “I’m not hungry.”

This admittance distracted Percy from the conversation he was having and he immediately reached over the table, setting his hand against Ron’s forehead. “Are you ill?” he demanded.

“No,” he said in annoyance. “I’m fine, seriously.”

“You look pale. Go back to bed. You don’t have classes for another hour. If you start to feel worse, go to Madam Pomfrey.”

Aware that nothing he said would convince Percy otherwise, Ron rolled his eyes and strode out of the Great Hall.

Charlie’s eyes tracked the redhead as he departed. “He doesn’t look so good,” she said in concern.

“Of course he doesn’t,” said Hermione tightly. “We had quite the ordeal last night.”

“Do you think we should talk to him?”

“I’m sure if he wants to talk, he’ll come to us. For now, maybe it’s best to leave everything be.”

A bout of snickering erupted from the Slytherin table and Charlie peeked over her shoulder. Draco was lazily tossing a small, crystal clear ball up and down. Pansy was sneering in the direction of the Gryffindors and Charlie quickly found the target of her nasty look. Neville was staring miserably at them, eyes following Draco’s movements.

“Hermione? Do you know what a Remembrall is?”

“It’s a magical item that helps you to remember,” explained Hermione. “It looks like a ball and it has smoke floating inside. When you’ve forgotten something, the smoke turns red.” Expression turning thoughtful, Hermione asked, “That’s what was taken from Neville, right? It’s why Ron was so eager to fight them.”

“Yeah, it’s why I asked. It was on my mind.”

“Well, he did have good intentions,” conceded Hermione. “Even if he went about them recklessly.”

Charlie watched as Draco and Pansy stood up, seemingly done with their taunting for the day. When the pair left the Great Hall Charlie stood. “I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for Hermione’s response Charlie casually walked after the Slytherins. She stepped carefully into the Entrance Hall, spotting the pair halfway up the stairs. Draco was still rolling the Remembrall in his hand.

“What’s wee Potter spying for?”

Charlie jumped and barely managed to suppress her cry of shock. She shot a quick look at the two Slytherins, who were too involved in their conversation to hear Peeves’ stage whisper. “I’m trying to figure out how to get that Remembrall from Draco without causing a fight.”

“Potter is a bad student,” said Peeves with a mock gasp. “Stealing and breaking curfew.”

“I’m not stealing. Draco and Pansy are the ones who stole it from Neville. I’m just trying to return it.” Tilting her head to the side, Charlie asked, “Do you think you could give them a scare? If you don’t mind, that is.”

Peeves was never inclined to listen to students, but Charlie’s request intrigued him. No one had ever asked him to purposefully scare someone before—not even the Weasley twins.

He vanished for a brief moment, causing Charlie to think she had been rejected. But then Peeves suddenly shot up through the floor in front of Draco and Pansy, causing them to scream in surprise. Draco lost his grip on the Remembrall and it shattered against the stairs.

“Peeves!” fumed Pansy. “Look what you’ve done!”

“Wait until the Bloody Baron hears about this,” said Draco angrily.

The two stormed off and Charlie hurried to the remains of the Remembrall. _“Reparo!”_

She watched as the item repaired itself in her hand, the crystal pieces forming a sphere once more. “Thanks Peeves,” she said gratefully. “Um, I’m sorry if I landed you in trouble.”

“It’s no fun when there’s no trouble,” cackled Peeves.

“Thank you,” she repeated with a smile. “Their faces were pretty priceless. I’ll see you around!”

She hurried back towards the Great Hall doors, Peeves watching after her with a thoughtful expression.

Charlie went to the Gryffindor table and paused behind Neville. She gently set the Remembrall beside him. He immediately seized it and said in awe, “How did you get it back?”

“Took a bit of sneakiness, if I’ll be honest. And help. It did break but I managed to fix it.”

“But we haven’t covered the Mending Charm yet.”

“I read ahead.”

“You taught yourself the Mending Charm?”

“Um, yes, but it took a few tries.”

Amazed, Neville beamed at her as he clutched his Remembrall to his chest. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’d suggest keeping it in your dorm for safekeeping.”

“I will!”

In that moment, Charlotte Potter became Neville’s hero for a completely different reason.

…

When their morning classes were complete Hermione and Charlie went to Hagrid’s for afternoon tea. A large black boarhound came to greet them when they stepped into the cozy hut. Hermione giggled when the dog licked her face happily.

"Down Fang!" Hagrid ordered. “Sorry about him.”

“It’s fine,” said Hermione with a smile.

"Hagrid, this is my friend Hermione Granger," introduced Charlie.

"It's very nice to meet you," Hermione said, shaking Hagrid’s hand.

As Hagrid brewed the tea, Charlie spotted a newspaper resting on the corner of the table. Curious, Charlie brought it towards her and her eyes locked on the front-page headline. Eyes widening, she nudged it towards Hermione. The bushy-haired girl sent her a quizzical look and Charlie whispered, “Read it.”

Hermione read through the article. “But Gringotts is impossible to break into,” she whispered when she had finished.

“There’s more. The vault that was broken into. It’s the one Hagrid took the mysterious package from."

"And Hagrid brought the package back here, didn’t he?” asked Hermione, understanding beginning to dawn. “Do you think that’s what’s in the third-floor corridor?”

“It has to be. But what is it?”

“Whatever it is, it must be important.”

“What are yeh two whisperin’ about?” asked Hagrid.

“Nothing!”


	7. Halloween at Hogwarts

“Hey.”

Glancing up from her textbook, Charlie was surprised to see Ron standing behind her. “Hey,” she returned.

Ron shuffled awkwardly on his feet, keenly aware of McGonagall’s sharp eyes on him. He supposed he didn’t blame her, for the last time he approached Charlie in the Great Hall it hadn’t gone well. “I saw Neville with his Remembrall and he told me what happened,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks, for that.”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t really do much. Peeves helped me out.”

“Peeves helped you?” said Ron in bewilderment.

“You didn’t tell me that,” spoke Hermione.

“I guess I didn’t think much of it.”

“You should,” said Ron in awe. “Peeves doesn’t help _anyone_.”

“I think the chance to scare some Slytherins was very appealing to him.”

“It’s appealing to me. Um, I wanted to say sorry. For being a prat.” Embarrassment flooded Ron’s expression. “You came to help me even though I was awful to you. And you didn’t tell McGonagall the real reason for our food fight.”

“You weren’t awful. Just not very nice.” Ron flinched and Charlie smiled. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“It’s about time,” said Hermione with a sniff. Shooting Ron an exasperated look, she said, “You are stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Is she always like this?” asked Ron.

“Most of the time. You’ll get used to her.”

“I think you mean I’ll get used to him,” returned Hermione.

…

After Ron’s apology, he and Harry started spending most of their free time with the two Ravenclaws. The girls told them about their theory and the four of them spent some time imagining what the beast could be guarding. Most of their ideas were outlandish and impossible and eventually they stopped dwelling on it. They didn’t have any further clues to help in their speculation.

October arrived and soon Halloween was on the horizon. Hagrid enlisted Charlie and Hermione’s help in carving the massive pumpkins he grew in his garden.

Charlie invited Harry and Ron to join them and in the glinting morning sunlight, they traversed across the grounds towards Hagrid’s hut. “These are a lot of pumpkins,” remarked Charlie, staring in awe at the sea of orange squash growing in the garden.

“There is an entire Great Hall to decorate,” said Hermione.

Hagrid spotted them through his window and came out to greet them. “Hello there,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi Hagrid.” Gesturing towards her male companions, Charlie said, “I brought some more friends to help. This is Ron Weasley and Harry Lupin.”

“Nice teh meet yeh, Harry. Yeh teh, Ron.”

He shook their hands and then stepped aside to observe the pumpkins. “We got a lot o’ work teh do. I appreciate yer help. It’s much easier with more than one set o’ hands.”

Once Hagrid got them set up, they all went to work. Hermione and Charlie scooped out the pumpkin seeds while Ron, Harry and Hagrid did the carving. “What does Hogwarts do for Halloween?” asked Charlie curiously.

“There’s a magnificent Halloween feast,” said Ron, eyes immediately lighting up. “All the sweets and desserts you want.”

“Saves walking from house to house to collect candy,” remarked Harry.

“You went trick-or-treating?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“Yeah, a few times. Uncle Remus would take me to Muggle towns. It was fun, to dress as a wizard and have everyone think it was just a costume.”

“My parents never really took me to a lot of houses,” said Hermione, letting a pile of pumpkin seeds splatter to the grass. “They didn’t think I needed too much candy so we only stuck to our neighbourhood. But dressing up was lots of fun.”

“What about you, Charlie?” asked Ron. “Are you going to miss this trick-or-treating, whatever it is?”

“No, not really,” she muttered, setting her finished pumpkin aside for Hagrid to carve. She’d never gotten the chance to celebrate Halloween. When her aunt and uncle took out Dudley she stayed with Mrs. Figg, who kindly gave her a bag of peppermints every year.

“Well, yeh won’ have a grander Halloween than here at Hogwarts,” Hagrid declared.

“I can’t wait,” she said with a smile.

A while later, the group carried the finished pumpkins into the Great Hall. They set them near the High Table, where Flitwick would later bewitch them to float in place of the usual candles. Charlie felt excitement bubbling in her chest. She had always been in awe of Dudley’s loot of brightly packaged candy. She wasn’t only going to celebrate Halloween for the first time, she was going to do it with her friends.

“What should we do now?” asked Ron.

“We’re going to finish our homework,” said Hermione pointedly. “You can join us, if you’d like.”

Ron glanced at Harry, who gave a sigh of resignation. “I do have that Potions essay to finish.”

“Me too, but there’s plenty of time to do it,” said Ron in bewilderment.

“There’s two days left,” Charlie said.

“Exactly!” When the two girls only stared at him, Ron scowled. “Oh, all right. But can we at least study outside?”

…

A week later, during breakfast, the usual rush of owls entered the Great Hall to deliver the mail. Charlie didn’t bother to look up. She never got mail and never expected to. She was startled when a long, thin package landed on the table in front of her.

“What’s that?” asked Hermione curiously.

“I have no idea.” She picked up the letter attached to the brown paper and read it.

_Miss Potter,_

_Please open this package when you are alone. I'd prefer not to have dozens of envious first-year students flooding my office. You will be able to use this at your first official Quidditch practice. Good luck!_

_Professor Flitwick_

A wide smile spread across her lips and she pocketed the letter. She was fully prepared to use one of the school’s brooms, rather than have one of her own. “Well?” said Hermione expectantly.

“I’ll tell you later,” promised Charlie.

After finishing breakfast, the two girls left the Great Hall. Charlie felt the stares aimed at her and the odd package she carried. They went to the Ravenclaw common room, which was empty. She immediately ripped off the paper, revealing a gleaming new broomstick.

“A Nimbus Two Thousand!” exclaimed Hermione. “That’s the newest one, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

Charlie didn’t care if it was new or old. It was hers.

Before lunch, Ron and Harry cornered Charlie. It took a bit of wheedling, but they managed to convince Charlie to show them her new broomstick.

Harry’s eyes lit up when Charlie stepped out of Ravenclaw Tower, the broom in her arms. “Awesome!”

Ron ran his hand along the handle. “You are so lucky,” he said with a wistful sigh. “I’m going to have to wait ages before I can try out for the Gryffindor team.”

“What position would you go for?” asked Hermione.

“Keeper, I suppose. It’ll be the first position that becomes available, anyway.”

“How about you, Harry?”

“I’m definitely going to try out next year, to be a Chaser,” he answered.

“You think you’ll give Quidditch a go, Hermione?” asked Ron.

Hermione shook her head. “Oh no, I’ve never liked sports much. But I don’t mind watching. I can’t wait for your first match, Charlie.”

Charlie grinned. “Neither can I.”

...

On the morning of Halloween, Hermione, Charlie and Ron were in Charms class. After Flitwick gave the demonstration of the Levitating Charm, he left them to practice. Both Hermione and Charlie levitated their feathers on the first try, earning Ravenclaw five points each.

Ron was sitting in the row ahead, thrashing his wand around as he uttered the spell. Recoiling as the wand nearly jabbed her in the eye, Charlie grabbed Ron’s wrist. “I think you need to be gentler,” she advised.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” added Hermione.

Ron slowed his movements, trying to concentrate. But the feather refused to move and Hermione shook her head.

“You’re not saying it right. It’s Wingardium Leviosa,” she spoke, enunciating carefully.

“That _is_ how I’m saying it!” snapped Ron.

“Well, if that were true, the spell would be working, wouldn’t it?”

“Just keep trying,” encouraged Charlie.

But Ron was frustrated and now overthinking his movements. The white feather remained still on his desk and when class was over, he stormed off. Hermione shook her head as she and Charlie joined the flood of students entering the corridor.

“He’s got a temper on him, doesn’t he?”

“I think it’s more than that,” replied Charlie. “I mean, we managed the charm pretty quickly. But he couldn’t get the hang of it and he’s been raised in the wizarding world.”

“I don’t see why he’d be upset about that. There were lots of kids who had trouble. He’s not the only one struggling.”

“When you’re the youngest of five boys who are great at magic, I think it does matter.”

Now feeling a bit bad for her insensitivity, Hermione said, “I suppose. I’m sure he’ll catch on. The Halloween feast ought to cheer him up.”

Charlie, who quickly learned about Ron’s penchant for sweets, smiled. “I’m sure it will.”

...

Evening arrived and the Great Hall was filled with joyful chatter and laughter. The tables were piled high with pastries and candy along with potatoes, roast beef and vegetables. Charlie seized the opportunity to eat as much candy as she wanted. There was soon a pile of colourful wrappers in front of her, her thin fingers working quick to divest the chocolate of its packaging. Hermione stared at her with wide eyes, a roast beef sandwich pausing just before her mouth.

"You're going to get sick if you keep this up," she informed. “And I can’t even think about the cavities.”

“I’ll brush and floss,” returned Charlie. “Halloween is amazing.”

Bewildered by her enthusiasm, Hermione said, “You’re acting like this is your first one.”

Eyes shifting downward, Charlie muttered, “It is.”

Stunned, Hermione said, “But I thought—”

“I said I wouldn’t miss trick-or-treating because I’ve never been,” confessed Charlie. Though they had only known each other a few months, Hermione was her best friend and they did everything together. Charlie didn’t want to lie to her, even if the Dursley’s treatment of her was humiliating for her to talk about. “My aunt and uncle don’t like me. They didn’t let me do much. Certainly not Halloween. And Dudley doesn’t share, so this is really the first time I’ve eaten sweets.”

Sadness welled within Hermione, but she tried to keep it from showing on her face. “That’s terrible.”

“It really wasn’t that bad,” said Charlie sincerely.

But Hermione was piling more candy onto her plate. “You have a lot of Halloweens to make up. Just be sure you don’t forget to floss.”

Charlie laughed, a strong warmth bubbling within her. “I won’t.”

The doors slammed open and Quirrell stumbled down the aisle, his face white as a sheet and terror in his eyes. As he passed by Ravenclaw table, Charlie’s eyes fell on the back of Quirrell’s turban and a sharp pain went through her scar.

Seeing the way her face twisted with discomfort, Hermione said in concern, “Again?”

Charlie had informed Hermione about the odd sensation that plagued her scar. At first, she thought it had been Snape who caused it, but the sting never occurred in Potions class. It only happened when Quirrell was around.

“It’s weird,” she said, brow furrowing. “I don’t know what’s causing it.”

Before Hermione could respond, Quirrell came to a halt in front of the High Table, where the professors were regarding him with varying degrees of worry and bewilderment.

“Troll!” he wailed. “There’s a troll in the dungeons!”

The reaction was instantaneous. Plates and goblets clattered to the table, food and pumpkin juice spraying in all directions as kids scattered. Dumbledore was on his feet and his bellow of “Silence!” caused everyone to screech to a halt.

“Do not panic. Prefects, you will take your Housemates straight to your dorms.” Turning to his colleagues, Dumbledore instructed, “You will all come with me to the dungeons.”

Penelope, along with the rest of the prefects, started directing students out of the Great Hall. Charlie glanced at Hermione. “Are there supposed to be trolls around here?”

“No,” said Hermione, perplexed. “They’re really stupid. I can’t imagine how one managed to get in.”

Charlie looked around, at all of the students surging in one direction. Fred and George were wrestling their way towards the High Table, shouting for McGonagall. Charlie’s brow furrowed at the urgency on their faces.

_I wonder what’s wrong?_

The Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs convened at the entrance, filtering their way through the doors. Harry shuffled closer to Charlie and Hermione and he whispered, “Ron’s not here.”

“Where is he?” asked Charlie. “I didn’t think he’d miss the Halloween feast.”

“Is he still upset over Charms class?” Hermione gave a guilty frown. “I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. I was only trying to help.”

They entered the corridor and the crowd of Hufflepuffs started to separate, heading towards the kitchens where their dormitories were located. Harry wrestled his way between Charlie and Hermione, trying to avoid catching the attention of the Hufflepuff prefects. In turn, Charlie and Hermione lingered behind their Housemates.

“I didn’t see Ron at the Gryffindor table so I asked his brothers where he was,” said Harry hurriedly. “They don’t know where he is.”

“That explains why Fred and George looked so worried,” said Charlie, fear and concern rising in her chest.

“He doesn’t know there’s a troll in the castle,” said Hermione with wide eyes. “Oh, he could be anywhere!”

Her mind racing, Charlie said, “Maybe not.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Levitating Charm is clearly still on his mind. He wants to be able to do it. He’s probably trying to practice. Somewhere where no one would be on Halloween.”

"The library!” exclaimed Hermione.

“But Ron isn’t the library type,” pointed out Harry.

“No, not usually,” agreed Charlie. “But he’s a Gryffindor trying to prove a point.”

“We should tell someone!”

As the three kids finally looked up, they discovered they were alone in the corridor. They had been too deep in their conversation to notice they’d been left behind, and their Housemates were too caught up in the possible danger of the situation to realize this.

"We have to go to the common room!" Hermione cried in panic.

“What about Ron?” demanded Harry. “We won’t have time to get a professor and who knows where McGonagall went.”

“The library is close,” said Charlie slowly. “If I run, I can see if Ron is still there and warn him.”

“You don’t even know he’s there!” said Hermione in frustration. “It’s just a guess!”

“She guessed Ron was going to meet Malfoy for the midnight duel and she was right,” pointed out Harry.

Torn for a moment, Hermione let out a groan of exasperation. “Fine!”

“You don’t have to—" began Charlie, but her friend interrupted.

“You can’t go alone. We’re sticking together. Right Harry?’

“Right!”

They sprinted for the library. When they got there, they discovered the doors knocked right off their hinges. “So much for the troll being in the dungeons,” said Harry grimly.

“What do we do?” squeaked Hermione.

“We help Ron,” said Charlie determinedly, hoping desperately they weren’t too late.

Wands out, they moved slowly through the stacks, winding their way around ones that had been pushed to the ground. A shout led the kids to the back of the library, where they found Ron frantically crawling beneath the tables as a large, ugly troll followed after him. Using its club, it knocked the tables aside, sending them crashing against the wall and crumbling into pieces.

“Distract it!” hollered Charlie.

_“Wingardium Leviosa!”_ cried Hermione.

A book soared into the air and slammed into the troll’s back. It turned around and began to lumber towards them. Harry and Charlie quickly followed Hermione’s lead and used the Levitating Charm to send books hurtling at the creature. It continued on, not even registering the hits.

Ron scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with fear. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know!” said Harry frantically.

“We’ll have to try something else!” said Hermione, looking about wildly as if an answer would spring from the pages of the books.

The troll raised its club and went to strike at them. Struck with inspiration, Ron lifted his wand and shouted, _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_

The club was ripped from the troll’s hand and it clattered across the floor. Turning around, the troll made its way back to Ron. Her eyes landing on the massive, heavy globe tucked in the corner of the library, Hermione cried, “Everyone, on the count of three, levitate that globe at the troll’s head! It’s going to take all of us to be able to lift it!”

“I’ll count down!” said Charlie. “One…two…three!”

_“Wingardium Leviosa!”_

The spell was spoken by the four in unison, their wands pointed directly at the globe. With a creak it rose and careened for the troll, who glanced over just as it smacked right into his skull. The globe and the troll fell to the ground with an almighty crash.

The four eleven-year-olds slowly approached the unconscious troll. Ron gave it a poke with his wand, but it remained still. The adrenaline fading from their veins, they took a good look at their surroundings. Pieces of bookshelves and damaged library books covered the carpet. The globe was cracked down the middle, slicing through several countries.

"Madam Pince is going to kill us," Harry moaned, running a hand through his short brunette hair.

"I mean, we didn’t really do anything,” said Ron, though his voice was weak. “It was mostly the troll.”

“Great job on the spell, Ron,” said Hermione, a bit breathless. “I knew you could do it.”

Sending her a smile, he said, “Thanks Hermione. Thanks for coming to help me. Uh, again. How’d you know where I’d be?”

Jerking his thumb at Charlie, Harry said dryly, “She apparently has a knack for that.”

There was the sound of hurrying footsteps and soon McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape and Quirrell appeared. They came to a halt, taking in the scene in stunned silence. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Charlie were frozen, eyes shifting between each other nervously. Charlie realized they must have made quite a racket but wished the teachers had managed to find them earlier. 

“Explain yourselves,” said McGonagall furiously.

"Why are you not in your common rooms like you were instructed?" Flitwick asked sternly.

“Potter most likely seized this opportunity to get more attention,” said Snape silkily. “And put her fellow students at risk in the process.”

"That’s not what happened at all,” insisted Ron.

McGonagall rounded on him. “And you, Mr. Weasley. Your brothers are in a right state over you. Why didn’t you attend the feast?”

Cheeks turning red, he muttered, “I didn’t feel like going.”

“I’m going to need more than that, Mr. Weasley.”

“It’s my fault,” piped up Hermione. “I made a comment and hurt his feelings when he couldn’t do the Levitating Charm. So he came here to practice.”

“I was just upset I couldn’t do it. It didn’t have anything to do with Hermione. But when I was studying the troll came in and nearly killed me. These three rescued me.”

While McGonagall went white at the admittance that one of her Lions had closely faced death, Quirrell stared at Charlie. "You took on a fully-grown mountain troll?"

“I suppose so,” she replied. “But we really didn’t intend to find it. We just wanted to warn Ron.”

Snape gave a scoff, clearly not believing a word they were saying. McGonagall sent him a sharp look before returning her attention to the first-years. “Did you need to fight the troll?”

“No,” said Charlie softly. The troll had not been quick or agile by any means and once they had lured its attention away from Ron, they could have all made a run for safety.

“We could have escaped,” agreed Ron, misery on his features. “We just got carried away.”

“And that nearly caused you to be killed,” said McGonagall. “Ten points from Gryffindor Mr. Weasley. The next time you intend to miss a feast be sure to tell someone where you are headed so we do not need to search for you in case of emergency.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Return to your dormitory and assure your brothers that you are very much alive.”

Ron sent his friends a quick look of intense gratitude before hurrying off. Flitwick regarded his two Ravenclaws and said, “While what you did was dangerous, it was also noble,” he said at last. “But you should have sought a professor for assistance if you believed you knew Mr. Weasley’s whereabouts.”

“Sorry, sir,” they said quietly.

“Ten points to the both of you, and Mr. Lupin as well.”

Snape made a noise of disbelief. McGonagall gave a nod and said, “It is impressive that first-years managed to overcome a mountain troll.”

"Return to your common rooms now,” instructed Flitwick.

The three scurried out of the library. As Charlie passed by Snape, she saw a patch of blood on his robes. As he twisted to regard the troll, the robes shifted to briefly reveal a deep gash in his leg before falling back into place.

_Whoa._

They stepped into the corridor, where Harry said in relief, “Well, that could have gone worse.”

“Can we please try not to have any more dangerous experiences for the rest of the year?” asked Hermione.

“Did you see Professor Snape’s leg?” said Charlie softly.

Harry frowned in confusion. “No. Why?”

“It’s bleeding. It looks like something bit him.”

It took a minute before Harry and Hermione caught on to what she was saying. “You can’t be thinking what I think you’re thinking!” she said in horror.

“I’m just saying,” said Charlie quickly.

“You think Snape went into the third-floor corridor?”

“It seems like it.”

Harry and Hermione went silent, staring at each other with concerned glances. Charlie followed them down the corridor, uncertainty twisting her gut.

Standing amongst the wreckage, the teachers surveyed the damage and the unconscious troll. "Ridiculous,” she muttered. “Four children taking on a troll."

“Not ridiculous enough to keep Filius from giving them points,” said Snape sourly.

"Come now Severus. It was rather impressive.”

“You’re encouraging Potter’s horrendous behaviour.”

“She has been a bit reckless, more so than any Eagle I’ve ever had. But she is clever. And every indiscretion has been either a misunderstanding or for good reasons.”

The troll gave a snort and they immediately rounded on it with their wands raised defensively. When it did not move, Snape turned to a trembling Quirrell and said, “Get rid of this thing.”

Jolting, Quirrell said, “Me?”

Eyes boring into the man, Snape said softly, “Yes, you. With my assistance, of course.”

Quirrell’s lips tightened into a thin line and he gave a nod. As the pair set about taking care of the creature, McGonagall glanced at Flitwick. "Would you like to have the honours of telling Irma what has happened to her beloved library?"

"I'd rather not.”

"I'll flip you for it." McGonagall removed a Galleon from her rob pocket.

"Deal."


	8. Quidditch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Branson, Fredericton, and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team members are my OCs.

Charlie was quickly learning that news spread fast in Hogwarts. Though Charlie and Hermione didn’t tell any of their Housemates what had occurred on Halloween, they were swarmed with questions the following morning. She was certain she told the troll story about a thousand times before breakfast ended. A quick peek at the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables informed her that Ron and Harry were having the same experience. Harry seemed exasperated as his Housemates clustered around him but Ron looked like he was having the time of his life.

“And then we all used the Levitating Charm to knock out the troll with a globe,” finished Ron, a dramatic flair to his voice. “It was pretty cool.”

“I fail to see how almost getting yourself killed was cool,” said Percy tightly.

Ron turned away from Neville, Dean and Seamus to regard his older brother in annoyance and exasperation. “But I wasn’t. I’ve said sorry a thousand times. What more do you want?”

“For you to actually show some remorse,” snapped Percy. “We were worried sick, stuck in the common room not knowing where you were.”

When Ron’s face fell, Fred chided, “Lighten up. He’s alive. He actually took out a mountain troll. That _is_ pretty wicked.”

Ron had arrived to the common room on Halloween night to an embrace by his brothers. Afterwards, he had been forced into his dormitory and sat through a furious lecture by Percy, with the twins chiming in every now and then. Fred and George had forgiven him quickly but Percy was still simmering.

“You never did tell us why you skipped the feast in the first place,” spoke George, shifting an intent glance onto Ron.

“I went to the library to study the Levitating Charm.”

“But why didn’t you just ask Flitwick for help during class if you were struggling so much?” asked Fred.

“Or I could have tutored you,” said Percy pompously. “All you need to do is ask.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you never needed help,” cried Ron in frustration. “None of you did! Bill, Charlie, they were popular and great at school. _You’re_ great at school—” Percy recoiled as Ron jabbed a finger at him. “And everyone thinks you guys are hilarious,” he continued, turning to the twins. “You use magic to create new pranks all the time. And then there’s me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Fred sharply.

“I’m not great at magic, I’m an average flyer, and it doesn’t matter if I _was_ great, because you all have done it first. All I am is the sixth Weasley boy.”

He started to look away, gloom on his features, but George grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact. “You,” he said seriously, “are far more than just the sixth Weasley boy.”

“You’re just saying that because you have to.”

“No, that’s Mum’s job,” joked Fred. When Percy sent him a glare, he coughed and added, “Seriously, Ron. You _are_ great. You’re amazing at Wizard’s Chess.”

“So is Bill,” pointed out Ron.

Fred grinned. “He is. But he hasn’t been able to win a game against you since he taught you how to play.”

That was true and a tiny smile broke out on Ron’s face. George lowered his hand to clap his sibling on the shoulder. “And so you couldn’t get the Levitating Charm on the first try. Do you know how long it took us to master the Mending Charm?”

“We had to get Percy to help us,” added Fred.

“Really?” asked Ron with wide eyes.

“The masters of destruction weren’t as adept at repairing objects,” said Percy with a smirk.

“Shut up,” said George with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m sorry if we’ve ever made you feel inferior,” said Percy, looking attentively at Ron. “It certainly wasn’t our intention. But I know how you feel.”

“You do?”

Giving a wry smile, Percy said, “If you think it’s hard following in our footsteps, let me tell you it wasn’t easy following the Head Boy and Quidditch captain.”

“Why can’t you be more like your older brothers?” said George in a rather impressive imitation of their mother. “Why can’t you be more like Ron? He’s younger than you and already knows how to be well-behaved.”

“We’ve heard _that_ only about a million times this year already,” said Fred.

Ron had never before considered that his brothers also felt overlooked and insecure. But he supposed it had been hard for Percy to live up to the expectations of Charlie and Bill. And Fred and George were always getting in trouble and being compared to their older siblings. Even Ginny, who held the special place of being their only sister, had the shadows of her brothers’ accomplishments cast over her.

“I’m sorry,” said Ron sincerely. “For skipping the feast without telling you. I guess I was being stupid.”

“We’ve all been there,” said Fred. “But you know you can talk to us about anything, right? You matter, and we’re always here for you.”

Beaming now, Ron said, “Thanks.”

“And if you ever think you haven’t done anything special, remember that you took down a mountain troll,” said George cheerfully. “None of us have done that.”

“I don’t know if that’s something to encourage,” said Percy flatly. “I don’t think Mum would agree.”

Ron grimaced. “I’m surprised she hasn’t sent me a Howler yet.”

“Mum is very particular about when she sends her Howlers,” said George seriously. “It’s for special occasions only.”

“It’s not like you sought out the troll,” added Fred. “You just weren’t smart enough to run away when it found you.”

“Thanks,” grumbled Ron. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Hermione and Charlie standing up to leave. He quickly got to his feet and said, “I’ll see you later.”

“Behave!” called Percy as he raced off and Ron waved his hand to signify that he heard him.

Harry immediately sprang from his table, eager to have the chance to escape the persistent questioning. The four left the Great Hall and once they were alone, Harry exclaimed, “The questions are never ending!”

“Well, they’re bound to be curious,” said Charlie.

“I don’t think they’re asking the _right_ questions,” said Hermione with a sniff. “Who let the troll into the castle in the first place? There’s no way it came inside on its own.”

“I’ve been thinking,” said Charlie slowly, “that maybe the troll is connected to whatever the Cerberus is guarding. And I think Professor Snape knows what’s in there.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Ron. Charlie told him about the injury on Snape’s leg and he gasped. “You think Snape let the troll into the castle?”

“No!” she said quickly. “Not exactly. I’m just saying the troll was probably let into the castle as a distraction while someone tried to get into the third-floor corridor.”

“If Snape got attacked by the three-headed dog, it was probably him.”

“Professor Snape is a respected Potions Master,” said Hermione hotly. “He wouldn’t do anything to endanger the school.”

“But whatever is being hidden is obviously valuable,” countered Ron. “Maybe a Dark artifact. Everyone knows Snape has a fascination with the Dark Arts.”

“Defending against the Dark Arts, Ronald. He wants to teach us how to guard ourselves against Dark magic, not use it.”

“I don’t know,” said Harry dubiously.

“I’m not saying it _is_ Professor Snape who let the troll in,” said Charlie in exasperation. “I’m just saying he knows _something_. Maybe he knew the thing was in danger and went to check on it. There’s another weird thing that’s been happening.”

“What?” asked Harry warily.

"Every time I look at Professor Quirrell, I get a weird feeling in my scar.”

“Has that ever happened before?”

Charlie shook her head. “No. But the _very_ weird thing about it is that it only hurts when I look at the back of his head.”

There was a long silence, where Harry and Ron didn’t know quite what to say. Finally, Ron said in an unsure voice, “That is weird.”

“Let’s not think about it too much right now,” said Hermione brusquely. “Charlie has her first Quidditch game tomorrow and she needs to focus on that.”

Brightening, Ron said, “That’s right! Are you excited, Charlie?”

“Yes. But also nervous.”

“You’ll be fine,” assured Hermione. “We better get ready for Potions. We’ll see you later, Ron?”

“Sure. Good luck.”

As Charlie, Hermione and Harry set off to get their Potions materials, Charlie made a mental note not to stare at his leg for the entire class.

...

The chilly weather of November did not help the conditions in the dungeons. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were shivering, arms wrapped tightly around their bodies in an attempt to keep warm. The Slytherins seemed to be immune to it, smirks on their faces as they waited patiently for the lesson to begin.

"If you keep shaking like that, your teeth will fall out!" Charlie whispered to Harry, who stood in between her and Hermione. Due to the odd number of kids in the class, there had to be a group of three to one cauldron. Harry usually shared with Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley but recently he started joining Hermione and Charlie at their station.

"It’s freezing in here,” he hissed. “Why aren’t you shivering?”

The cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys had never been particularly warm in the winter, so Charlie was used to the cold. She merely shrugged. “I don’t think it’s too bad.”

The dungeon doors slammed shut and everyone went quiet as Snape swept inside. "Potter," he drawled, immediately locking eyes with Charlie. "If you think you are going to be praised for your obvious display of attention, you are sorely mistaken. Going after a troll—such stupidity and recklessness I would expect from a Gryffindor.”

The handful of Slytherins lurking in the back of the room broke into snickers. “With your severe lack of respect for the rules,” continued Snape, “it seems unfair for me to allow you to brew this next potion with your friends. Today you will be working with Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson."

Charlie had known this was coming but it didn’t stop the dread from building in her gut. “Yes, sir.”

Snape had expected a glare, a scowl, or some sort of protest. But the girl simply stood, gathered her supplies and brought her stool over to where Draco and Pansy sat.

"It's too bad the troll didn't have you for dinner," Pansy mocked as Charlie positioned her stool beside Draco. "I was looking forward to taking your broomstick."

"Well, if I don’t get so lucky next time, it’s yours,” returned Charlie in a light voice.

It was not her goal to receive another detention, not so soon after the troll incident. She opened her textbook to the required lesson and began to read over it.

As Snape prowled down the aisles, closely monitoring the progress of his students, his eyes continuously flickered to the back corner. Charlie was working on her potion, where Snape was disgruntled to find she was going through the process without error.

Having a bit more trouble with hers, Pansy sent a glare at the Ravenclaw. Her elbow knocked into her vial of Horklump juice, which fell against the floor and shattered. Snape turned on his heel, prepared to assist her, but Charlie already had her wand out. _“Reparo,”_ she said quietly.

The vial reformed and the contents soared back inside. Charlie gently set the vial near Pansy, who simmered in silence.

Eyes narrowing slightly, he continued his rounds of the classroom. In the back of his mind, it registered that they were not in the part of term where Flitwick taught them the Mending Charm. She had clearly taught herself from the textbook.

_Ravenclaws,_ he thought scornfully.

A few minutes later a loud cracking sound echoed through the dungeons. Snape whirled around to see smoke pouring from Charlie’s cauldron.

“What have you done, Potter?” he asked, strolling up to their station.

“I didn’t do anything,” insisted Charlie. “Pansy put something in my cauldron.”

“Lying instead of admitting to your mistakes. That’ll be twenty points from Ravenclaw. Since I doubt you can salvage anything, clean up your station.”

“But that’s not fair!” protested Harry.

“Silence, Lupin! Ten points from Hufflepuff for your cheek.”

Resignation on her features, Charlie started to put away her supplies. She had never received a zero grade before. She hoped she didn’t have to spend any more classes with Draco and Pansy or else she would probably have to get used to academic failure. 

…

They had one last practice before their first Quidditch game. Charlie’s stomach was jumping with nerves. Though she knew being small was ideal for a Seeker, she couldn’t help but feel especially short compared to her teammates. Gripping the end of her broom, Charlie felt her breakfast start to turn. A hand settling on her shoulder caused her to look up. Scarlet smiled at her.

“Relax, Charlie. You’re going to be fine. You can’t be any worse than Clancy was at his first game.”

“Thanks, Scarlet,” said Clancy sarcastically.

Over the past few weeks, Charlie had gotten to know her fellow teammates. Scarlet was a strict captain and often pushed them to their limits during their practices. She was all about strategy and was often plotting out game tactics on pieces of parchment.

Tommy Nickerson was a Chaser, along with Eliza Mourning and Danny Carting. He was outspoken and often clashed with Scarlet. He much preferred jumping into action rather than going over tedious Quidditch manoeuvres. Danny was a bit clumsy on a broomstick but never missed the Quaffle when it was passed to him. Eliza was quiet and was often the one to interject if an argument broke out amongst them. She also had perfect aim and never missed a hoop, which made her and Danny a great combination.

Clancy Stevenson and Aurora Lore were the Beaters. Clancy had a habit of attempting stunts on his broomstick. Aurora was tough and curt but beneath the rough exterior she was very nice. She offered to teach Charlie how to curse in three different languages and Charlie politely declined.

Scarlet regarded them with serious eyes. “We need to bring our all tomorrow, guys.”

“It’s only the first match, Scarlet,” pointed out Eliza.

Tommy snorted. "Yeah, and I don't know why you're so worried. We kicked their butt last year."

"Barely!" Scarlet snapped. "We beat them by a mere five points. And if you kept your big mouth shut and paid attention, you might have actually caught a Quaffle or two!"

Tommy glared at her. “Well excuse me for not being a star Chaser like Danny and Eliza.”

“You’re excused,” retorted Scarlet. "Our practices have gone pretty well, so don’t do anything different for the game.”

“Does that mean—”

“Yes, Clancy. That means no handstands on your broomstick.”

Clancy sighed. “Fine. I'm just trying to spice things up."

"I think Quidditch is already exciting enough without you attempting to break your neck," Danny commented dryly.

Aurora burst out laughing and clapped Clancy on the back. "Man, would that be a sight to see!"

“I’m so glad you take such thrill out of the idea of me dying,” he said flatly.

“Focus!” said Scarlet in exasperation. “We totally have a chance to win the Quidditch cup this year. With Charlie as our Seeker, we can't lose!"

"Knock on wood!" Tommy howled. He rapped his knuckles on the handle of his broomstick and grinned innocently as Scarlet glared at him.

"Right. Twenty laps around the pitch for everyone. Move it!”

...

"You're going to do brilliantly!" Ron assured her the next morning as they trekked towards the Quidditch pitch after breakfast. Harry and Hermione nodded in earnest agreement.

"Thanks guys! Do me a favour and make sure Pansy and Draco don't chuck anything potentially harmful at me during the game, okay?” Charlie joked.

"I'll hex them if they even try to," Ron promised.

Hermione slapped him across the arm. “No you won’t!”

Charlie grinned and waved goodbye once they arrived on the pristine green pitch. They went to the stands, which were rapidly filling up. She joined her team, where Scarlet was pacing back and forth anxiously.

“Is she always like this before a game?” whispered Charlie.

“All the time,” said Aurora with a roll of her eyes. “And trust me, it never stops getting annoying.”

“We got this, guys,” said Scarlet suddenly, whirling to face them. There was a manic energy about her. “There is no way Branson can best Potter.” When Tommy opened his mouth to say something, she snarled, “Nickerson, if you say knock on wood, I will not be held accountable for my actions."

"Now, Miss Ezra."

The reproving tone caused Scarlet to blush. “Sorry,” she muttered as Flitwick wandered up to them.

“It’s fine,” said Tommy, lips twitching into a smug smile. “It’s just the pregame jitters.”

“I am sure you’ll play wonderfully,” said Flitwick. “And remember, it doesn't matter if we win or lose. It matters that we play—"

"—with class and integrity," the older members finished in unison.

Flitwick nodded proudly and he wished them luck before scurrying to the staff stand. A whistle blast cut through the air, signifying them all to mount their brooms. Scarlet took a deep breath. "This is it. Do your best and Clancy, _please_ don't do anything stupid."

The third-year gave her an offended glare.

Lee Jordan was the Quidditch announcer. He called them out one by one and the Ravenclaws whooped in delight. Charlie felt her heart pound as she flew out, the grass a green slab beneath her feet. When the players were gathered, Madam Hooch raised the Quaffle, the whistle in her other hand.

The second the Quaffle was in the air Tommy snatched it and Lee Jordan was off with the commentary.

"Nickerson immediately takes possession of the Quaffle. He's tossing it to Mourning—oh! Fredericton from Hufflepuff intercepts it! He shoots, he scores!"

Tommy hollered out some choice words that caused Madam Hooch to blow the whistle warningly. The Hufflepuffs screamed loudly. Charlie kept her focus on finding the Golden Snitch, letting Lee fill her in on what was happening around her.

"Carting has the Quaffle and he narrowly misses the Bludger! Carting trying to regain control of his broom after his near miss—yikes! He just got nailed with the other Bludger!"

" _Focus!_ " Scarlet shrieked from her place by the goals. "Lore, where's your head at?"

"Stevenson was closer!" Aurora protested.

"Sure! It's my fault!" Clancy snapped.

“Of course it is! _You’re right there!_ ”

" _Shut up and get back in the game!"_ hollered Scarlet.

The two Beaters stopped their quarrelling and Aurora muttered something under her breath.

Eliza and Danny managed to score a few points for Ravenclaw. Clancy spotted the Bludger racing towards Eliza and went to intercept it. He slammed it away—only to accidentally send it towards Aurora’s head.

“Heads up!” he shouted.

Aurora spotted it in the nick of time and blocked it with her bat. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Sorry! It was an accident, honest!”

“I’m going to kill the both of you!” cried Scarlet. 

It was not the bickering between her teammates that broke Charlie’s concentrated effort in hunting the Golden Snitch. It was when her broom began to buck uncontrollably, as if it were purposefully trying to dislodge her.

Hands holding the handle tight, Charlie yelped as she was thrown about wildly. “I don’t think a broomstick is supposed to be doing this!”

...

"What's going on?" Harry cried in horror. Everyone erupted into whispers, watching with wide eyes as Charlie’s broom whizzed about frantically, the girl barely managing to hold on.

"I don't know!" Hermione cried. "Brooms don’t act like that. Someone must be jinxing it.”

"But who would want to do that?"

“We need a better view,” said Ron in frustration. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

He straggled through the crowd of students, avoiding jostling elbows and tripping over feet. He craned his neck to peer at the sea of students, searching for a shock of red hair that matched his own. Spotting his brothers, he barrelled towards them, calling out hasty apologies as he knocked into people.

“Percy!” he panted, coming to a halt near his older brother. “Can I borrow your binoculars?”

Lowering the bronze item, Percy furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“I want to get a better look. Something isn’t right with Charlie.” When Percy sent him a quizzical glance, Ron amended, “Charlotte.”

“I suppose,” said Percy reluctantly. “Though I don’t know what you’re expecting to see. It’s a case of a defunct broom.”

Ron had never heard of a defunct broom acting in such a manner but didn’t have time to argue. “Thanks! I’ll bring them right back.”

He hurried back to his friends and thrust the binoculars up to his eyes. “See anything?” asked Harry anxiously.

“Not yet. Wait, there! It’s Snape!” hissed Ron. “He’s trying to kill her!”

“What?” Hermione snatched the binoculars from Ron’s hands and took a look for herself. In the staff stand was Snape, muttering words at a rapid pace, his eyes unblinking and never leaving Charlie. “He is,” she said in disbelief.

“What do we do?”

“I have an idea.” Shoving the binoculars back at Ron, Hermione took off running.

"What is she doing?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged and resumed observing Snape. "I'm not sure. But whatever she's thinking I hope she does it soon."

...

Creeping beneath the stands, Hermione came to a stop when she reached Snape’s seat. She carefully slipped her wand through the crack and set the hem of his robes on fire with blue flames. It didn’t take long for someone to notice and shout in alarm.

Hermione jumped back as Snape rocketed to his feet. She flinched as Quirrell was knocked roughly aside by the commotion as teachers clamoured to their feet, trying to see what was going on. She sprinted back to her friends, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure she had not been spotted.

Ron grinned broadly when Hermione rejoined them. “That was brilliant!”

"And it worked!” cried Harry excitedly.

Her broom finally went still, letting Charlie take a moment to catch her breath. She loosened her grip, her fingers aching from how hard she had been holding on. Giving her head a sharp shake, she took in her surroundings. Madam Hooch had allowed the game to continue, keeping alert eyes on the girl to ensure she would not fall off.

“All right, Potter?” she called.

“Fine!” Charlie answered, flashing a thumbs-up.

_That was weird._

A sparkle caught the corner of her eye and she turned her head. The Golden Snitch streaked across the field in a barely visible blur. She immediately sped after it and it wasn’t long before the Hufflepuff Seeker was in pursuit.

"Go Charlie!" Aurora shouted.

The Snitch flew in a high arc before making a steep dive towards the ground. Charlie followed its trail, not flinching even as the ground loomed closer. Branson grit his teeth and yanked on his broom handle to level out with the pitch. But he was not as quick as Charlie and a second too late—he slammed hard into the grass and knocked into the Ravenclaw.

Too focussed on the Snitch, she wasn’t prepared to avoid the crash. She flew off the broom when Branson crashed into her and she let out a startled yelp, striking the grass and rolling a few times.

She lay still for a moment, dazed. But then she was aware of something round fluttering in her mouth and she abruptly sat up. She pressed a hand against her mouth and hunched over.

“Sorry!” Branson said, hastily hurrying to the first-year’s side. “Are you okay?”

Charlie could only gag in response, and out in her hand came the Golden Snitch. She and Branson stared at it in bewilderment as Lee Jordan crowed, “And Charlotte Potter has caught the Golden Snitch! Ravenclaw wins!”

The stadium rocked with cheers and applause. Branson helped Charlie up, a bemused smile on his lips. “Well, I can definitely say I’ve never seen that before,” he remarked, shaking her hand before going off to join his team.

“That was amazing!” whooped Scarlet, landing near them and racing to embrace Charlie.

"That was one heck of a catch!" Clancy exclaimed.

"Well done,” praised Eliza, setting a hand on her shoulder.

"This calls for a celebration!” said Tommy with a grin.

Charlie beamed as her teammates patted her on the back and offered more praise. They went to shake hands with the Hufflepuff team before going to the changerooms. Charlie wrestled out of her Quidditch robes, euphoria rising within her. When she went back outside she found her friends waiting for her.

“That was pretty awesome,” she declared.

"Which part?" Harry questioned. "When the broom tried to buck you off or when you ate the Snitch?"

"I didn’t eat it. It just landed in my mouth.” Brow furrowing, she muttered, “But the broom thing was strange.”

"You won’t believe what happened—” started Ron but Hermione gave him a sharp jab in the side.

“You guys ready to party?” asked Danny with a grin, Clancy and Tommy trailing after him.

“No Gryffindors or losers allowed,” said Tommy good-naturedly, giving Harry’s brunette strands a light toss.

“We’ll get you next time,” said Harry determinedly.

“Not with Charlie on our side,” said Clancy proudly. “You coming?”

“I’ll catch up,” assured Charlie.

When all of her teammates filed past them and towards the castle, Ron asked in annoyance, “Now can I tell her?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, crossing her arms.

Ron explained to Charlie what he had witnessed and how Hermione had stopped Snape from jinxing her broom. "She lit his robes on fire!" he said with a hearty chuckle. "It was fantastic."

“So once he discovered he was on fire my broom stopped jerking around?”

“That’s right.”

"Maybe he’s the one who let the troll into the school,” said Harry. “And when he tried to get past the three-headed dog it bit him.”

“But what does jinxing my broom have to do with anything?” asked Charlie in puzzlement.

This caused the three some pause and they exchanged glances. “Well, he does hate you,” muttered Ron.

“Yes, but enough to try and kill me on school grounds? It doesn’t really make sense.”

“It was definitely him,” said Ron stubbornly. “I saw his lips moving and he was looking right at you.”

“He was,” confirmed Hermione. “I saw it too.”

“I believe you!” said Charlie quickly. “It’s just strange.”

“I wonder what that dog is hiding,” mused Harry. “It must be really important if Snape wants it.”

"Oi!”

The four looked up in surprise to see Hagrid lumbering towards them. "Yer teammates told me yeh would be here." Hagrid beamed at her. "Congratulations fer catchin' the Golden Snitch! I knew yeh would be great."

"Thanks Hagrid,” said Charlie with a smile.

"Would yeh like teh join me fer tea?" Hagrid glanced at all of them expectantly.

“My teammates want to celebrate but I think I can visit for a bit.”

Ron, Harry and Hermione agreed and they all set off for Hagrid’s hut. Fang immediately bounded over to them, dancing around their legs and licking their hands. As Hagrid set about making the tea, he asked curiously, “Do yeh what happened teh yeh out there, Charlie?”

“Yes,” said Ron bitterly. “Snape tried to kill her.”

This unexpected revelation caused Hagrid to jolt in shock, nearly dropping the pot he had just filled with water. “Don’ be silly,” he said sharply, turning to look at them.

“But he was,” insisted Harry. “Hermione and Ron saw him.”

“It was suspicious,” said Hermione worriedly. “He was talking very fast under his breath—he was jinxing her broom.”

When Hagrid shook his head in disbelief, Ron pressed, “He’s up to something, Hagrid! He was bitten by the three-headed dog."

Horrified and outraged, Hagrid demanded, "Yeh went into the third-floor corridor? Do yeh know what could have happened teh yeh?"

"I have a slight clue.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” said Charlie. “Not really.”

Hagrid listened intently to their story before sighing. “Well, no harm done, I suppose. But don’ go there again. Fluffy can be vicious, but he’s real sweet once yeh get teh know him.”

The four eleven-year-olds stared at him in shock. " _Fluffy?"_ Ron asked in disbelief. "You named that monster _Fluffy_?"

"He's not a monster. Just a bit feisty is all," Hagrid corrected.

Charlie sighed. "Yeah, _real_ feisty. Where did you _get_ Fluffy?"

“Got 'em off a fellow from a pub. Lent him teh Dumbledore teh guard the—wait just a second! Never yeh mind!"

“But whatever it is, Snape is trying to steal it,” insisted Ron.

"No! I won' hear o' it! Professor Snape is a respected teacher an' he would never do anything teh hurt a student!"

“That’s what I thought, but you didn’t see—” began Hermione but Hagrid cut her off.

“Don’ say any more about it,” he warned. “This isn’t yer concern. Just leave it be an’ don’ go investigatin’. Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel wouldn’ want a couple o’ kids puttin’ themselves in danger fer nothin’.”

The four exchanged a triumphant look. They now had something to go by; whatever the dog was guarding, Nicolas Flamel had something to do with it.

All they had to do was figure out who he was.


	9. Christmas at Hogwarts

“Whoa.”

Charlie and Hermione stood in the Great Hall, staring around in stunned awe. Hagrid beamed at their reactions and set the final tree in the corner, snow falling from his shoulders. “It’s a sight, isn’ it?”

Twelve towering pine trees were spread out throughout the Great Hall. Flitwick and McGonagall were working together to decorate them, Flitwick creating strings of golden bubbles and McGonagall levitating gold and silver baubles to hang carefully from the branches. When the ornaments joined with the garland, the trees glittered magnificently.

Wreaths with red bows lined the High Table and red and green silk hung from the ceiling. While the decorations were similar to those in the Muggle world, Charlie had never seen it on such a grand, elegant scale. The Dursley household usually only consisted of a tree that was done up meticulously by Petunia. An artificial tree, of course, as a real one would be far too messy. Vernon didn’t like lights, as he thought they were tacky, and so a simple wreath adorned the door.

"Wow," Hermione said, drawing Charlie from her entranced gazing. “That looks like fun.”

Flitwick turned to see his two Eagles watching with attentive eyes and he smiled. “Would you like to help?” he asked cheerfully. “There are eleven more trees to decorate and more hands would certainly be appreciated.”

“Have at it,” said Hagrid. “If I don’ see yeh before, have a happy Christmas, Hermione.”

“You too, Hagrid!”

Flitwick taught them the charm and they caught on quickly, much to their Head of House’s pride. They spent a while decorating the trees until Ron and Harry wandered through the doors. “I thought we were meeting in the library,” said Ron in slight exasperation.

“Oh! Sorry.” Hastily finishing her string of bubbles, Charlie cast a sheepish glance at her friends. “We got caught up.”

“You can stay caught up if you want,” said Ron hopefully.

“I think we’re finished now,” said Hermione. “Thank you for showing us the charm, Professor.”

“It’s my pleasure!”

Ron gave a weary sigh as they trudged their way down the corridors. “I can’t believe we’re spending our last few days before Christmas holidays in the library. Can’t we go have a snowball fight or something?”

“Don’t you want to know who Nicolas Flamel is?” demanded Hermione.

“Yes, but we’ve been looking for days and haven’t found a single thing about him,” complained Ron.

“Are you sure we can’t just ask Madam Pince?” voiced Charlie. “She’d solve the question in a heartbeat.”

“Yes, but she also probably knows what is being hidden at Hogwarts,” reasoned Hermione. “I suspect Professor Dumbledore told all the staff what was going on. He certainly wouldn’t bring Fluffy into the school without telling them why.”

“And if she knows we’re researching him, she might get suspicious and tell someone,” added Harry. “If Dumbledore asks why we’re looking for Flamel, what would we tell him?”

Charlie supposed they had some fair points. “Well, what if you ask your brother Percy?” she directed at Ron. “You said he’s knowledgeable.”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “I said he’s a know-it-all. Yeah, he’s smart, but in a pratty sort of way. And I can say that because he’s my brother. You can never get a simple answer from the guy. Even if he does know something, he’s going to ask why I want to know.”

“Well, we’ve only got about twenty thousand books to go,” said Harry with a roll of his eyes. “The answer will be somewhere.”

Charlie felt something niggle in the back of her head. Ever since Hagrid had unwittingly let the name slip, it had a ring of familiarity. But she couldn’t pinpoint where she had heard it before.

They entered the library and began collecting books, creating stacks on one of the tables. For an hour they combed through paragraphs, trying to locate the elusive Flamel. Madam Pince prowled by every now and then, regarding them with a degree of suspicion.

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "Why can’t we find anything?”

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe the guy isn't really all that famous. Everyone in the wizarding world can't have a book about them, can they?"

"You do,” pointed out Harry.

"Well, it’s not my fault you people think I’m famous. Which I’m not. The Dursleys can attest to that.”

Hermione sent her a worried look. “You’re not going back for Christmas, are you?”

“I don’t think they’d let me,” said Charlie in amusement.

Ron gave a disgusted frown. Charlie had given bits and pieces of her childhood with her relatives, and as far as he was concerned, they were the worst Muggles in the world. “Sod them. We’re going to have a great Christmas.”

“You guys will practically have the castle to yourselves,” remarked Harry.

“There’s still time to add your name to the list,” persuaded Ron.

“Maybe next year. I’m looking forward to seeing Uncle Remus and he’s still waiting to properly scold me for the whole troll thing.”

“I’m glad my parents are going to visit Charlie in Romania. I won’t have to hear about it until next summer.”

“Are you excited to go skiing?” Charlie asked Hermione.

“Yes. I’m not very good at it but it is fun.”

Ron and Harry sent each other a perplexed glance. "What's skiing?" Harry questioned.

Hermione blinked. "Oh! Well, you basically fasten two pieces of wood to your feet and slide down a really steep snowy hill."

There was a beat of silence as they all realized the absurdity of Hermione’s explanation. Ron let out a snort. “Seriously? That’s what you Muggles do for fun?”

“It’s hard to explain!” said Hermione with a huff. “It’s actually quite difficult to ski if you don’t do it all the time.”

“Why don’t you get Hagrid to give you some wood? We’ll find a hill and you can show us,” snickered Harry.

"Very funny!" Hermione harrumphed, burying her nose into another book as her friends burst into laughter.

...

Students flooded the Entrance Hall, trickling their way through the doors under Filch’s scrutiny. Harry and Hermione lingered off to the side as they said goodbye to their friends. “Have a good Christmas,” said the brunette, exchanging a hug with Ron and Charlie. “Try not to spend too much time in the library.”

“Trust me, I won’t,” said Ron.

“This is the perfect time to do research,” countered Hermione. “Leave no book unread. Nicolas Flamel is in there somewhere!”

“We’ll give it our best shot,” promised Charlie. “Enjoy your holidays.”

Harry and Hermione waved goodbye and joined the crowd of students departing the castle, dragging their trunks behind them.

"What do you want to do?" Ron questioned. “And _don’t_ say the library.”

Charlie laughed. “I wouldn’t mind a break from our search. How about we go outside?”

It was a beautiful winter wonderland on the castle grounds, white snow glittering in the sunlight. Charlie had visions of snowmen and snow angels, eager to have the chance to do something with the snow other than shovel it.

"Yeah Ronniekins! You can—"

"—join us in having a snowball fight!"

Ron’s twin brothers came up to them with smirks. He frowned and crossed his arms. "Are you going to cheat and use magic?"

"Of course not!"

"We would _never_ do such a thing!"

Ron sent them a suspicious look before glancing at Charlie. “You already know who these jokers are but I don’t think you’ve actually met them.”

“Which is a failing on your part, little brother,” said Fred, his expression one of mock offense. “Taking so long to introduce your own flesh and blood to the great Charlotte Potter.”

“I wanted to hold off as long as possible,” deadpanned Ron. “This is Fred and George.” He pointed out the twin as he said their respective name. “It’s okay if you can’t tell them apart. It took us ages.”

“And sometimes Mum still can’t,” said George with a mischievous grin. “Not that we mind.”

“Fred, George, this is Charlie.”

“That’s not Charlie,” began Fred.

Immediately knowing what he was getting at Ron snapped, “Don’t say—”

“Charlie is in Romania, being visited by Mum and Dad,” finished George. “I can’t believe you don’t even know your own brother.”

Lifting his eyes heavenward, Ron said in exasperation, “They won’t shut up with that stupid joke.”

Charlie had been listening to their bickering with a grin. “I suppose I don’t blame them. I’m Charlotte Potter. But you already knew that.”

“Now that have the introductions out of the way, let’s go outside so we can pummel you in a snowball fight,” said George cheerfully.

“We’ll meet you outside,” said Fred. “Charlotte, make sure Ronnie doesn’t dawdle.”

The twins sauntered outside and Ron and Charlotte started for the stairs. “Is it okay if they don’t use your nickname?” he asked hesitantly. “I know you prefer it, but I’m afraid if we all start calling you Charlie, it’s going to get confusing very quickly.”

“I don’t mind,” said Charlie quickly. “I like them. They’re funny.”

“Yeah, most of the time. So long as they’re not pulling jokes on you.”

They separated for a few minutes to properly dress for the weather. When they got outside, it was to see Fred and George with a massive pile of snowballs in between them. With a mischievous grin, Fred hollered, “Targets sighted! Attack!”

“You lousy cheaters!” cried Ron as he and Charlie were struck with several snowballs at once. “You said no magic!”

“We had our fingers crossed,” said George, glee on his features as the bewitched snowballs ruthlessly pummeled the eleven-year-olds.

Covering her face with one arm, Charlie took out her wand and called, _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_

Her spell hit an oncoming snowball and she redirected it, where it smacked George in the face. He spluttered in surprise and Ron quickly followed Charlie’s strategy and they exchanged fire. Though the twins got many more hits in, Ron and Charlie refused to give up. After ten minutes of unwavering assault on both sides, Fred and George decided to change their tactic.

Ron’s eyes widened when his brothers charged towards them. “Faster, Charlie, faster!”

But they couldn’t say the spell quick enough and their arms were tired, so Ron decided to face Fred head-on. He raced forwards and launched into a tackle, bringing them both into the snow. Deciding the battle was lost, Charlie ran towards the castle doors but George caught up to her. He grabbed her around the middle and swung her around, causing her to shriek in laughter.

“Put me down!”

“The lady requests, the lady shall receive!” said George dramatically.

Charlie found herself face-first into the snow. Fred had Ron in a headlock and was dropping snow down the back of his robes. “Okay, you win!” yelped Ron, wriggling madly from the frigid sensation. “Let me go!”

Charlie climbed to her feet, brushing herself off as Fred released Ron. “Victorious again, George!” he called.

“As always,” said George with a smirk. “Thanks for playing, guys. Better luck next time.”

“Go dry off before you catch pneumonia.”

Cheeks pink with cold and bodies shivering, Charlie and Ron trudged back to the castle. “This is why I don’t have snowball fights with them,” said Ron.

“I had a great time,” she said cheerfully.

“Me too, but it would be nice if I could win once in a while.”

…

After dinner, the pair retreated to the library. They tucked themselves in a corner, flipping through another set of books in search for the elusive Flamel. Ron cast a glance towards the Restricted Section, which was roped-off and inaccessible unless you had a signed permission slip.

"What are the chances of getting a teacher to give us a slip?” he asked.

Charlie followed his gaze towards the Restricted Section. "Not great. Hermione said that section contains a lot of books about the Dark Arts. And I doubt Nicolas is in there. I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would keep a Dark object hidden in a school full of students.”

Ron sent her a baffled look. “He has Fluffy in a school full of students and it tried to bite our heads off.”

“Right,” muttered Charlie. “Well, let’s leave the Restricted Section as our last option.”

He sighed and went back to browsing. They left when Madam Pince came to shoo them out. As Ron and Charlie shuffled down the corridor, Ron said, “Let’s forget about Flamel for now. Tomorrow’s Christmas!”

“Yeah.”

Frowning at her lackluster tone, Ron asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just going to be another day for me.” At Ron’s crestfallen expression at her indifference, Charlie said quickly, “Not that I mind! The Dursleys never really gave me any presents so I don’t expect any.”

“That’s stupid, of course you’re getting presents.” Of that Ron was certain, considering his mother’s passionate response to his letter about Charlie’s terrible relatives. “We’ll open them together.”

"How?"

"Gee, I didn't think of that."

They came to a halt in the corridor, both of them in thought. "Why don't we ask Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick if we can do it in one of our common rooms?" Charlie suggested.

"I don't know. I don't think anyone other than a Gryffindor has been inside Gryffindor Tower. It’s not allowed.”

"Doesn't hurt to ask.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose,” he agreed, though he sounded dubious. “We can go see McGonagall. If that’s okay.”

Charlie didn’t mind at all, as it made the most sense. Ron would want to spend Christmas with his brothers and it would be easier for her to go to them. "Sure. Do you know where Professor McGonagall's office is?"

“Yeah, it’s off the first-floor corridor.”

"Then let's hurry up and find it. We’re got some time before curfew."

The two hurried to McGonagall’s office, where they paused outside of the door. When Ron looked at her expectantly, Charlie exclaimed, “She’s your Head of House!”

“Oh, fine,” muttered Ron. He rapped his knuckles against the wood and it wasn’t long before it was thrown open, McGonagall’s gaze becoming sharp as she regarded them.

"Are you two aware there is only five minutes until curfew?" she asked sternly.

"Yes ma'am," Ron said nervously. "But I was wondering if Charlie could come over to my common room for Christmas morning. So we can open our presents together? Please?"

McGonagall was slightly thrown off by this request. They stared at her hopefully and McGonagall debated carefully for a moment. Students weren’t allowed in other House common rooms besides their own due to safety protocol.

But she knew that Hermione Granger was home for the holidays, along with Harry Lupin. The only other person Charlie had a strong bond with in the castle was Ronald Weasley.

"I suppose so,” McGonagall said at last, and quelled a smile at the broad grins that spread across their faces. “But because of the school rules I cannot give you the password to enter." She shot Ron a firm look as she added, “And neither can Mr. Weasley. You will wait by the portrait of the Fat Lady and Mr. Weasley will grant you entrance. You are allowed to stay there for the day and then you must return to your own common room for the night. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," the two kids chorused happily. “Thank you!”

"You are welcome. I will notify Professor Flitwick, Miss Potter. Now to bed with the both of you!"

Ron and Charlie scurried off to their own dorms, with Charlie promising that she would be outside Gryffindor Tower at seven-thirty sharp.

...

Charlie awoke the next morning to sunlight pouring through the open window. She sat up with a yawn, rubbing at her eyes. A brown blur caught her attention and she squinted at the end of her bed.

“Whoa,” she said in awe.

A pile of presents was waiting for her and she remembered that it was Christmas morning. She took a quick look at the clock, noticing she had twenty minutes to get ready and meet Ron at Gryffindor Tower. She raced about her room, changing out of her pajamas and grabbing her wand. She gathered her presents and rushed out of her dorm.

Ron had just swung the portrait of the Fat Lady open when Charlie arrived, panting from her sprint. “I made it!”

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?" Ron commented with a grin.

He helped Charlie carry her packages up to his common room. His Housemates that had stayed behind for the holidays looked at them in bewilderment. But before they could say anything, Fred and George arrived from their dorm.

“Hey, Charlotte!” greeted Fred. “Ready for a Weasley Christmas?”

“How do you know she wants to spend it with you?” asked Ron.

George reached over and pinched Ron’s cheek. “Because if she wants to spend Christmas with you, then she’ll be spending it with us. You’re not hiding in your dorm all day. It’s a day for family.”

“What about Percy?”

“Ah, right,” muttered Fred. “Knew we were missing somebody.”

The twins disappeared back up the stairs and Ron led Charlie to his dorm. He dropped down to his bed and said, “I hope you don’t mind spending Christmas with my brothers.”

“I’d be happy to,” said Charlie sincerely. “I think they’re great.”

“You haven’t met Percy yet. Come on, let’s open our presents.”

Needing no further invitation, Charlie set her presents down and took the remaining ones from Ron’s arms. She spotted a lumpy package amongst the pile and lifted it up. There was a note attached and with surprise in her voice she read, “From Mrs. Weasley.”

Recognizing the shape instantly, Ron’s ears turned red. “Oh blimey. I was hoping she might send you a gift but not _that_.”

“Why would she send me a present?”

“I told her all about you. And I might have mentioned how you weren’t really expecting much for Christmas.”

Touched, Charlie removed the brown paper, revealing a midnight blue sweater. In the middle was the bronze Ravenclaw symbol. “I love it!” she said, her heart filling with warmth and delight.

"Yours is cool!" Ron complained, holding up a maroon sweater with his initials sewn in the upper right-hand corner. "Why can't she ever make me one like that?"

“I like yours. The colour suits you.”

Ron, who never liked the colour maroon, was pleased by this. “Thanks. I guess these things are pretty warm.” When Charlie opened her gift from Hermione, he rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Haven’t you read that a thousand times?”

Holding the glossy-covered copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , she grinned in appreciation. “It really is full of useful information. Now I can flip through my own instead of borrowing Hermione’s.”

Ron and Charlie then opened their gift from Harry, which was a bunch of Chocolate Frogs. They quickly dove into the sweets, a collection of cards scattering by their feet. Charlie had gotten Ron a Chudley Cannon badge and he had gotten her a book about famous Quidditch players.

Her eyes lazily scanning the Chocolate Frog cards by her feet, she paused upon the one about Professor Dumbledore. She froze as her eyes fell upon the very name they’d been searching for. “Ron!”

“What?” he asked, startled by her urgent tone.

She picked up the card and held it out to him. In the brief blurb about Dumbledore, Nicolas Flamel was mentioned as being his partner in alchemy.

“At least we know what he’s famous for,” said Ron. “But it still doesn’t help us figure out what Fluffy is guarding.”

Charlie sighed. It was a clue but the mystery was still far from solved. "True.”

She started to clean up her mess, but Ron said, “You still have one more package to unwrap.”

Confused, Charlie peered over her shoulder. A package rested behind her, one that must have fallen from her pile. There was a note attached and she let out a soft gasp. "It says that this present once belonged to my father. But it doesn’t say who its from.”

"Open it!" Ron whispered eagerly.

Charlie unwrapped a shimmering cloak that rippled when it moved. "What is it?"

"It's an Invisibility Cloak! Those things aren't easy to come by. Try it on!"

Wrapping the Cloak around her body, Charlie was shocked to see that only her head remained visible. "No way,” she breathed.

Regarding Charlie thoughtfully, a slow grin crossed Ron’s face. "I've just had an idea!"

“Yeah?”

"Well, what if we used the Invisibility Cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section?”

"That's a horrible idea!"

"How else are we supposed to find information on Flamel? We’ve definitely tried a few alchemy books and didn’t come up with anything. And alchemy can be dangerous business. If you find a book about alchemy in the Restricted Section, you might find the answer!”

“Might,” said Charlie pointedly.

“Oh, come on! You didn’t know if I’d really be meeting Malfoy but you came anyway. This time, you won’t get caught!”

Charlie bit her lip, torn for a moment. As much as she didn’t think it was a good idea, she could feel the Cloak snug around her body. It was a piece of her father and it felt like a phantom embrace. It was nice. She didn’t want it to sit at the bottom of her trunk. She might as well use it.

“Fine,” she said at last. “Do you want to come?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’ll do it after curfew. I’ll meet you outside this tower at midnight.”

“Brilliant,” said Ron with a wide grin. “This will be fun.”

...

They entered the Great Hall, where the tables were sparsely filled as most of the student populace had gone home for the holidays. Charlie glanced over at the Ravenclaw table, where there were clusters of upper-year students that she barely knew. The glow of happiness that surrounded her for most of the day dimmed as she was struck with déjà vu. Of sitting alone in her cupboard, with a measly portion of roast beef, potatoes and Yorkshire pudding, the sounds of the Dursleys’ boisterous celebration filtering through the crack under the door.

She was about to head to her table, ready to sit by herself at the end, when Ron asked, “Do you want to sit with me and brothers?”

Hope pierced through her moment of gloom and she said hesitantly, “If it’s allowed, and if it’s okay with your brothers. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Ron instantly, leading her to the Gryffindor table. “And if it’s not allowed, then we’ll just wait in my common room and get the twins to smuggle us food. I’m not eating Christmas dinner without you.”

Ron sat next to Fred, Charlie lowering on the bench beside him. Casting a small smile at the older Weasleys, she said, “I hope it’s okay if I eat with you.”

“And if it’s not I’m leaving,” said Ron fiercely, sending a narrow-eyed glower at Percy.

“Wipe that look off your face,” said Percy warningly. “Though it’s usually frowned upon, it is Christmas, and McGonagall already gave permission for her to spend the day in Gryffindor Tower. I doubt she’ll be upset over Charlotte eating with us.”

Snape cast a glare at the raven-haired girl from his position at the High Table. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked.

McGonagall frowned in confusion, not certain of what he was getting at until she followed his gaze. “Really, Severus,” she said in annoyance. “It’s Christmas and she hardly knows the Eagles that stayed behind.”

“This special treatment is only going to inflate her ego.”

“What special treatment?” asked Flitwick in disbelief. “What ego?”

“You rewarded her for showboating during her first flying lesson, for one,” said Snape dryly. “Not to mention minimum consequences she received for confronting a troll.”

“If Potter was showboating, I would have marched her to Albus myself,” interjected Hooch sharply. “But she violated my rule to save another student from severe injury.”

“The same reason applies to why Potter and the others ran off during the troll attack,” added McGonagall. “She wasn’t looking for the beast. She was looking for her friend. I’m not sure what Charlotte Potter you have in your class, Severus, but it’s clearly not the one we’ve been teaching.”

Irate with his colleagues, who as far as he was concerned were wrapped around Potter’s finger, Snape glared at the worst offender. It was Dumbledore who approved Flitwick’s request for Potter to be placed on her House Quidditch team. He didn’t intervene when the troll incident occurred, believing merely taking points from the children was fair. And it was Dumbledore that was currently regarding Potter with a warm smile and a bright twinkle in his eyes.

“Are we all gathered then?” Dumbledore asked. His Heads of House sounded off with the affirmative and Dumbledore pretended not to hear the sour note to Snape’s voice. “Wonderful!” Getting to his feet, he proclaimed, “Happy Christmas to you all! Let the festivities begin!”

The Christmas feast appeared on the tables, far too much food considering the amount of people that were gathered. Ron immediately started piling food onto his plate and Charlie followed suite, scooping portions onto her plate. Warmth bubbled through her veins when Fred promptly leaned over and poured twice as much food onto her plate.

“Christmas is a time for family and stuffing your face. So stuff your face, Charlotte,” he ordered.

“Leave her alone, Fred,” said Ron, elbowing his brother in the side. “She can eat what she wants.”

Charlie managed to polish off her plate, though she knew she’d probably pay for it later. The Great Hall was filled with laughter and chatter, and when dinner was over Ron escorted Charlie back to Ravenclaw Tower, where she would review her homework.

“Ravenclaws,” muttered Ron as they walked down the corridor. “Christmas isn’t a time for homework.”

“I’m not doing. I’m just proofreading it.”

“It’s still work.” Taking a quick, furtive glance around, he added, “We’re still up for tonight, right?”

“I guess,” said Charlie uncertainly. “Though we’re going to get expelled if we get caught.”

“Can’t get caught when we can’t be seen.”

They bid goodbye for the time being and Charlie snuggled in one of the armchairs. After making corrections to her Charms essay, she wrote a thank-you card to Mrs. Weasley. She placed the note on her nightstand, where she would deliver it by owl in the morning.

Her nerves were in full-force when she got ready to meet Ron. She wrapped the Invisibility Cloak around her body and snuck out of Ravenclaw Tower. She hovered outside the Fat Lady’s portrait and the second it swung open she dove through the hole.

“Oof!” grunted Ron, stumbling back as she crashed into him. “Charlie?”

“No. I’m a ghost.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

Charlie lifted the Cloak so he could get under it and together they trooped out of Gryffindor Tower. They were silent as they went towards the library. Charlie refused to take off the Cloak until she was sure the library was completely empty.

"Stay with me," said Charlie, slinging the Invisibility Cloak over her shoulder, causing part of her body to disappear.

"Don’t have to worry about that.”

They opened the gate that blocked off the Restricted Section and started to prowl the shelves. After a half an hour of looking at indexes and flipping through pages, they didn’t come up with anything new about Nicolas Flamel. “This is stupid,” said Ron in annoyance.

"We’re going to be here all night.”

Ron went to take another book off the shelf but accidentally pulled the one next to it loose in his efforts. It fell straight on his foot and he shouted, his curse echoing in the vast space.

_"Who dares intrude into my domain?"_

The two kids whipped around with their eyes wide with fear. Charlie peeked around the shelf, able to make out the outline of Madam Pince rapidly approaching them. Her wand was lit, revealing a rather crazed look on her features. Charlie didn’t blame her for being protective of her books, considering what had occurred only months earlier.

“Where did she come from?” hissed Ron.

"Doesn’t matter.” Pince had discovered the ajar gate and was practically running in their direction. “Get under the Cloak!”

They concealed themselves and hastily scuttled down the aisle, giving Pince a wide berth as she stalked down the rows. “Come out!” she bellowed. “I know you’re in here, you delinquents!”

Charlie and Ron made it out into the corridor but before they could heave a sigh of relief, Filch and Snape came striding towards them. Unable to make it past both of them without being knocked into, Charlie spotted a door towards the end. She quickly led them towards it and glanced over her shoulder. Filch and Snape weren’t looking, so they quickly squeezed through the narrow opening and eased the door shut.

For a moment, they stood holding their breaths. But the minutes ticked by and the doorknob did not jiggle and after a bit the voices of the staff members disappeared.

"That was close," Ron muttered.

Shrugging off her Cloak, Charlie said feelingly, “I am not doing this again.” She scanned their surroundings, which was mostly abandoned furniture covered in thick layers of dust. Her gaze fell upon a gorgeous mirror, perched in the corner. “That doesn’t fit with the rest of the room.”

Ron nodded his agreement, staring at the ornate gold frame in awe and he moved towards it. Charlie squinted at the inscription carved along the top of the mirror.

**_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ **

Her brain raced to unscramble this message. "I show not your face but your heart's desire."

"This is spectacular!" Ron cried out suddenly, his face alight with glee. "I'm Head Boy! And Quidditch captain! I even have top marks!"

Charlie frowned in confusion. All she could see was Ron’s reflection. She flicked her eyes back to the message. _Heart’s desire…hmmm._

"May I see?" Charlie asked. Ron reluctantly stepped aside and she took his place.

A small, scrawny, pale girl stared back at her. But soon her reflection was joined by a woman with bright red hair and green eyes identical to her own. A man came to stand on her other side, his black hair tangled and unruly as hers. She stared in shock at her parents, ones she had seen once in a picture Petunia had thrust at her for a few seconds before locking it away.

Her heart swelled with sorrow. She wanted her parents. She wanted them alive. She wanted to feel their love. To feel their affection and comfort and care.

“It’s my turn again,” said Ron impatiently. “Move over.”

“I see my parents.”

Faltering slightly at that, he muttered, “Oh. Well, I guess you can have another minute.”

She turned to glare at him, anger rising in her gut. The mirror began to quiver and Ron stared at her, startled. “A minute? You’re giving me another minute to watch my parents? How generous of you.”

Distaste dripped from her voice and Ron bristled. “You can’t just hog it,” he snapped.

_It's not real._

The thought pierced through her anger and she paused, shooting a glance over her shoulder. Her parents were smiling at her, pride in their gazes. She set a hand against the glass and felt only the cold surface.

She gave a hard breath, tears prickling at her eyes. She backed away, allowing Ron to take her place, and caught her breath. She could stare into the mirror all she wanted but her parents were gone. They weren’t coming back. That would never change. The mirror only gave her an image, a reflection, of what she wanted most in the world. It did her no good.

"Ron, let's go."

"But I want to stay! I finally stand out amongst my family!"

"But this isn't real," Charlie tried to reason with Ron. "It's just a mirror that reflects your desires. They might not ever happen."

A red flush crept along Ron's face. "Are you saying that I don't have the smarts to get the marks like you and Hermione? Are you saying I'm not good enough like the rest of my brothers?"

"I'm sure she's not implying that at all, Mr. Weasley."

The two kids nearly jumped out of their skins. Dread rose in Charlie's stomach as she turned around to face her Headmaster. The indigence fizzled out of Ron and he regarded Dumbledore nervously. “Professor?” he squeaked.

“How long have you been there?” asked Charlie incredulously. She could have sworn there was no one in the room when they arrived and she didn’t hear anyone enter.

“Long enough. Mr. Weasley, do you know what this mirror reflects?"

The redhead bit his lip. "Um...is it what Charlie said before, sir? Our heart's desires?"

"Correct,” said Dumbledore, flashing Charlie a proud glance. “It shows us our deepest, desperate desires of the heart. This is the Mirror of Erised. What the mirror shows you may not come to pass, so it is not worth obsessing over it.”

Ron ducked his head in shame and Dumbledore smiled gently. "I can assure you Mr. Weasley, more experienced wizards have been ensnared by the mirror’s capabilities. But if I may, I believe you need not worry. You desire to stand out above your brothers.”

“Yes sir,” said Ron softly.

"To say you will not ever become Head Boy is something we cannot decide at this very moment. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work for it. And you need not be disappointed if it doesn’t come to pass. You are as valuable as your siblings and have your own unique strengths. You merely need to be you.”

“That’s what Fred, George and Percy told me.”

Dumbledore beamed. “Ah, so you have confided with them. Wonderful!”

“They did help me to feel better about myself,” admitted Ron. “But why do I still feel jealous of them? Like I’m not enough?”

“I am afraid such emotions do not fade so quickly, especially when it comes to comparing oneself to your siblings. But I know you will be just fine. You are as strong and determined as your brothers. You will find your place.”

A smile breaking across his face, Ron said, “Thank you, sir. Um, how did you know we were here?”

"Madam Pince is in quite a tizzy." Dumbledore chuckled. "She sent a message, requesting my help in finding the intruders. I thought it would be a good idea to check on the Mirror of Erised, considering it’s rather close to the library. I’m glad I did.”

“Are we in trouble, sir?” asked Charlie hesitantly.

“I see no reason to punish you. Your father had a few midnight excursions with the Cloak himself. Though do try not to make a habit of it.”

Charlie nodded hard. “Yes sir.”

"I will be relocating the Mirror of Erised. Promise me you won’t go searching for it.” When the children gave him their word, he smiled broadly. “I believe it is time to call it a night. Mr. Weasley, could you please wait outside the door for a moment?” When Ron’s expression turned worried, Dumbledore said gently, “You need merely call for me should a staff member come upon you.”

“Okay.”

When Ron stepped out of the room, Dumbledore regarded Charlie. “Many wizards have been fooled by this mirror, driven mad by what it shows them. But you pulled yourself out its trance very quickly, considering your young and tender age.”

Cheeks colouring, Charlie said, “A part of me wanted to stand there forever. But I just felt so…sad, staring at them, knowing it was all fake. It was worse, really, having imitations in front of me.”

The sorrow on her features broke Dumbledore’s heart. “You have a sound head on your shoulders, Charlotte. Much like your mother.”

A sincere smile on her lips at this comparison, Charlie said, “Thank you. What do you see in the mirror, Professor?” When Dumbledore paused, she realized this was a rather personal, and perhaps insensitive, question. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t mind. I see myself surrounded by socks. I never seem to get as many as I’d like.”

There was something about his answer that rang false with Charlie but she knew better than to press. Dumbledore escorted her and Ron back to their respective Towers. When she collapsed into bed, Snowy snuggled close to her side, she realized that Dumbledore had never bothered to ask _why_ they were in the library past curfew.


	10. Mystery Solved

"They did _what?_ "

McGonagall’s shout was loud, but not enough that it pierced through the noise made by the students as they ate their breakfast. Dumbledore still shushed her, not wanting all of his staff members to overhear their conversation.

McGonagall cast a quick glance at the Ravenclaw table, her heart filling with sorrow as she understood what Charlotte must have seen. “She saw her parents, then?”

“Yes. But she broke herself out of its trance very quickly. Mr. Weasley might have been tempted to stay there all night if I hadn’t intervened.”

“What did he see?”

“He saw himself as Head Boy.” At McGonagall’s scoff, he sent her a disapproving glance. “As superficial as it may seem compared to Charlotte’s desire, it’s important to Mr. Weasley.”

“Of course,” said McGonagall, chastised. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. It was a bit surprising, is all. Mr. Weasley doesn’t seem to be the type to want to be Head Boy.”

“It’s not necessarily that. It’s a yearning to stand above his siblings and that’s how he believes he can accomplish it.”

McGonagall gave a nod of understanding. In a whisper, she asked, “If Miss Potter saw her family, did she see…”

She trailed off, knowing better than to finish her question, no matter how softly it was spoken. There was no need, for Dumbledore said, equally as quiet, "I assume not, for I am sure I would have been assaulted with many inquiries. She desires her parents—she knows not to desire more than that." He took a sip from his goblet, deep in thought. "Perhaps it would be wise if we explained the situation to her."

"Absolutely not!" McGonagall hissed. "The poor girl only recently learned that You-Know-Who tried to kill her when she was a baby. Perhaps if those good-for-nothing Dursleys had properly educated her about her family history, it might be possible. But it’s too much too soon.”

"While I agree with you there, I don’t see how we can continue putting it off.” Dumbledore turned a brief glance at the Hufflepuff table, where Harry was happily chatting with Hannah Abbott. “They spend a great deal of time together. Though perhaps it was inevitable that they would form an instant bond.”

"You shouldn’t say anything without consulting Remus Lupin,” said McGonagall sharply.

“I wouldn’t,” assured Dumbledore. “It’s a delicate matter and he deserves to have his input, more so than anyone. But maybe it is too soon…this is her first year in the wizarding world, after all. They will need to be told one day, however.”

" _One_ day, Albus," Minerva said firmly. "Not today. Potter only needs to know so much at this point in time."

...

"You did _what_?" Hermione hissed, her forkful of eggs clattering to her plate in shock. Charlie winced as the Ravenclaws around them turned to see what the problem was.

Hermione had returned from her holidays last night and she seemed so tired from the trip that Charlie thought she could wait until morning to tell Hermione of their little midnight excursion.

"If it makes a difference, it was Ron’s idea. We didn’t get in trouble.”

“Let me get this straight. You and Ron used this Invisibility Cloak someone sent you to break into the Restricted Section after curfew. Then when you were trying to escape Madam Pince, Professor Snape and Mr. Filch without being discovered, you came upon this mirror.”

“Basically.”

“I wish you would have written to me once you figured out who Flamel was,” said Hermione with a shake of her head. “But I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. The answer was right under our noses the whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The answer is in _Hogwarts: A History._ I’ll show you.”

They quickly finished their breakfast and hurried out of the Great Hall. Once they got to their dorms, Hermione dug her worn out copy of the book from her trunk. She flipped through the pages before finding what she was looking for.

“Here!”

Charlie read through the section and suddenly she knew why Flamel had a ring of familiarity to it. She frowned in annoyance. “I can’t believe I forgot. Mind you, I did only read this part once. It’s really your fault.”

Hermione shoved her shoulder. “Very funny! Nicolas Flamel is the creator of the Philosopher’s Stone. No wonder someone is trying to steal it!”

“Why would they keep a thing like that in Hogwarts?”

“It’s the safest place it could be, isn’t it? Professor Dumbledore must have known Gringotts wouldn’t cut it, and he was right. It was nearly stolen.”

“But who’s trying it take it?”

“You really don’t think it’s Snape?”

Charlie bit her lip. “I don’t know. He _was_ bitten by the dog. But Professor Quirrell is the one who knew about the troll. There’s no way it could have made it from the dungeons to the library by the time we got there. You saw how slow it moved. Come on, we better tell Harry and Ron.”

They returned to the Great Hall, where Harry and Ron were still eating. They dropped their utensils when the girls told them to meet them in the Entrance Hall. They stood in an alcove where they wouldn’t be overheard and the girls explained what they had discovered.

“What’s the Philosopher’s Stone?” asked Ron in confusion.

“It creates Elixir of Life,” explained Hermione. “It can make someone immortal.”

Harry paled. “And they’re keeping it here? Are they mad?”

“You have to be careful at the next Quidditch match, Charlie,” said Ron urgently. “I’ve just heard—Snape’s volunteered to referee! He’s probably going to try to kill you again!”

“That’s not the bit that worries me,” said Charlie. “It’s the fact that we’re going against the Slytherins. The odds aren’t in my favour.”

“You’re worried about losing when there’s a chance you’re not going to survive the match?”

“Ron, I sincerely doubt Professor Snape is going to kill me in broad daylight in front of an entire crowd of people.”

“You never know,” muttered Ron, though now he seemed at ease.

Harry let out a sigh. “Let’s just hope Hermione doesn’t have to set anyone on fire this time.”

...

"This is going to be the worst match _ever_!" Tommy complained as he reluctantly filed onto the pitch, midnight blue Quidditch robes swaying in the breeze. "Can we just forfeit now?"

"What's the matter?" Aurora taunted. "Afraid of Snape?"

"Yes," Eliza muttered, her grip tightening on her broomstick.

Scarlet whirled around to face them. "Listen up! I want all of you to grow a backbone! Stevenson, if you even _think_ about pulling a stupid stunt, I'll make sure you fly laps until your butt gets permanently stuck to your broom! Lore, _please_ don't punch any of the Snakes in the face. Nickerson, _keep your mouth shut!_ Charlie, get that Snitch as soon as possible!”

Not wanting to mess with their captain while she was in this mood the team nodded quickly. Charlie mounted her broom and took a deep breath. Despite what she had told her friends, she was a bit nervous that something would happen to her. But as her eyes scanned the crowd, she spotted Dumbledore in the staff stands and the knots in her stomach loosened.

_If he’s here, I’m going to be fine._

Snape blew the whistle and everyone shot into the air. Charlie circled the pitch carefully, wanting to finish this match as soon as possible.

It wasn’t long before a sharp whistle blast cut through the air and Snape bellowed, "Penalty shot to Slytherin!"

"It was an accident!" Danny howled as Marcus Flint accepted the Quaffle with a smirk. "I didn't mean to run into him!" Snape turned a deadly glare onto him and he hastily retreated.

"You klutz!" Aurora snapped.

A glint of gold caught her eye, right below where Snape was hovering. Without giving the Slytherin Seeker a chance to notice the Snitch himself, Charlie raced after it, heart pounding rapidly.

The Golden Snitch was hovering just below Snape, who’s eyes were narrowed into slits when he spotted the girl barrelling towards him. She suddenly veered downwards and grabbed the Snitch, coming to an abrupt halt.

“Sorry!” she gasped to Snape.

She flew to meet her celebrating team. The Slytherin Seeker was on the other side of the pitch, practically gaping at her in disbelief as the other Slytherin players looked murderous.

"That must have been the shortest match in history!" Eliza exclaimed.

"It was brilliant!" Danny agreed.

"You are amazing!” cried Scarlet. “I love you!"

Charlie laughed, delight bubbling within her. She changed back into her school robes and met Hermione, who was waiting for her outside the changerooms. She beamed at her. “You were fantastic!”

"Thanks!" Charlie grinned and looked past her. "Where’s Ron and Harry?"

"It’s a bit of a story. Draco and Pansy were ganging up on Neville and Ron turned around and punched Draco in the face. Professor McGonagall saw them fighting from the Commentators Booth and took them to her office. Harry and Pansy went along to explain the story. No doubt they'll be there awhile, considering there's no way Pansy and Draco will tell the truth."

Charlie flinched. “Yikes. Is anyone hurt?”

Hermione shook her head. “Nothing more than a black eye.”

The two girls made their way back to the castle. Charlie’s teammates had left before her and the Quidditch crowd was long gone, leaving the grounds eerily quiet. The castle doors slammed open and they froze when a hooded figure slunk down the steps.

“Who is that?” asked Hermione fearfully as the person all but ran towards the Forbidden Forest. 

“I don’t know, but it looks suspicious. And if it’s suspicious, I bet it has something to do with the Stone.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as Charlie mounted her broom. “You’re not!”

“I am. Are you coming?”

Hermione hesitated for a fraction of a second before climbing onto the broom behind Charlie. Not used to having the weight of two on her broom, it took Charlie a minute to maneuver smoothly through the air. They remained absolutely quiet as they followed after the figure. When they reached the forest, Charlie landed on a thick tree branch, and the girls used the leaves as cover.

"Why w-w-would you w-w-want to meet here?” asked Quirrell. Charlie craned her neck slightly, able to make out Quirrell and Snape standing in the clearing below.

"It’s the most private place outside of the castle. No students around to eavesdrop, in any case.”

"What d-do you want f-f-from me?”

"I want to know why you let the troll into the castle. I’m hoping you’ll give me an answer this time around.”

"I would never do s-such a thing!"

"You've been acting odd since the beginning of the semester," Snape growled. "Not to mention the lies. The troll was in the dungeon, you say? It was in the library and no troll can move that quickly in such a short amount of time. You also have a habit of going near the forbidden third-floor corridor. It was there I caught you on Halloween, after all.”

Quirrell's stuttering got so bad that neither Hermione nor Charlie could distinguish what he was saying. But if they had to guess, it seemed he was trying to defend himself. “Quiet,” hissed Snape, fed up with his excuses. “I have no concrete proof, which is the only reason you are still here. If you won’t tell me what you’re planning, I’m merely going to have to keep an eye on you. I advise you to decide where your loyalties lie. You do not want me as an enemy.”

Snape strode out of the forest, leaving Quirrell behind. Hermione and Charlie exchanged disbelieving looks.

It was Quirrell who had been after the Stone all this time.

...

"Are you sure?" Ron asked dubiously as the four spent as long as they could getting to their common rooms after breakfast the following morning. "I mean, it's Quirrell! And you even said Snape's leg was bitten!"

"Perhaps Professor Snape was trying to make sure the Stone was still safe," Hermione pointed out. "And we heard the two of them perfectly clear. Professor Snape is suspicious of Professor Quirrell."

"But what about Charlie's broom incident?" Harry questioned. "What happened then?"

“Professor Quirrell was knocked over after I set Professor Snape’s robes on fire. He must have lost his concentration and Charlie's broom stopped acting up!"

"But what was Snape mouthing then?" Ron demanded.

"For every jinx, there is a counter-jinx," Harry mused thoughtfully. "Well...I suppose it is possible. The crook is always the person you least expect."

Hermione’s face fell. “Oh, I can’t believe it! I thought Professor Snape was trying to hurt Charlie, but he was saving her. I set him on fire!”

“I wouldn’t tell him that, if I were you,” said Harry dryly.

Ron ran a hand through his ginger hair. "Well, _I_ certainly wasn't expecting this."

Charlie furrowed her brow. "It explains a few things. But why does my scar burn when he’s near?”

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "But what I do know is that you can't go anywhere with Professor Quirrell alone. That can’t be a good sign."

"Well, that's two mysteries solved I suppose." Ron ticked them off on his fingers. "We know what Fluffy is guarding and we know who is after it. But really, is Quirrell capable of breaking into Gringotts successfully?"

His friends could only shrug. It seemed there were still more questions that needed answers.


	11. Norbert the Dragon

"This is ridiculous," Ron muttered as he stared longingly out the library window. The weather outside was beautiful, with warm air and a crystal-clear sky. And he was stuck inside, studying and doing homework. "Can't we take a break?"

"We just started!" Hermione exclaimed, not taking her eyes off her Charms textbook. "Besides, exams are just around the corner and we must start getting prepared."

"It’s not around the corner! We’ve still got months left!”

"Yeah, but our Potions essay is due after the Easter holidays." Harry sighed heavily and continued to write on his piece of parchment. "Not to mention everything else due in the next couple of weeks. Why do teachers have to pile on so much homework _before_ the holidays?"

The redhead continued to peer outside wistfully. "Well...how about you three study by the lake while I goof off?"

Hermione paused for a moment, thinking this over. "I suppose we could do that," she agreed. "But try not to be so distracting.”

Charlie chuckled at Ron's eagerness and the four trooped out into the warm sunlight. They settled by the water, stretching out in the grass. Ron happily started skipping stones across the water’s surface while the others returned to their studying.

Snowy joined the eleven-year-olds moments later and rubbed against Charlie's ankle. There was a piece of parchment tucked in her collar, much to Charlie’s surprise. "What have you got there?"

_Dear Charlie,_

_I couldn't find you or the others in the castle, but I did find your cat. I sent her to go looking for you. I'd be very grateful if you could stop by immediately. I need your help. Please bring Hermione, Ron and Harry if they don’t mind._

_Hagrid_

"That doesn't sound good," Harry said nervously.

"Clever cat!" Charlie praised, scratching Snowflake fondly. "Well, Hagrid needs our help, so we better go give it to him."

Hermione sighed in annoyance but packed her books away. Ron looked thoughtful as they made the trek to Hagrid's hut. "I wonder why Hagrid needs our help."

"If he needs our help with anything along the lines of 'take Fluffy for a walk', I'm gone," Harry warned his companions.

Charlie approached the wooden door and knocked. "Hagrid! It's us!"

The door flew open and the large man ushered them inside quickly. His eyes darted about before closing the door firmly behind them. "I'm glad yeh came!"

"What's wrong Hagrid?" Hermione asked worriedly. Ron peered around Hagrid's hut and froze when his blue eyes fell upon something strange boiling in a pot in the fireplace.

"Hagrid!" he moaned, burying his face in his hands. "You didn't!"

"Didn't what?" Harry asked anxiously, trying to keep Fang at bay. The dog was attempting to lick his face. "What's the matter?"

Ron pointed a shaky finger at the round black egg simmering in the pot. "Hagrid got himself a dragon!"

"Hagrid!" Charlie, Hermione and Harry cried in unison.

Hagrid nervously twisted his hands. "I've always wanted a dragon!" he protested feebly. "An' now I got one!"

"But what do you need _our_ help for?" Hermione asked cautiously, afraid of the answer.

"I'm not taking it for a walk!" Harry hollered, backing away from the egg. "I'm not feeding it either!"

Charlie sighed and rubbed a hand down her face. "When is it going to hatch?"

"Er...about now,” said Hagrid sheepishly.

The kids groaned and stared warily at the egg, where they could see tiny cracks forming in the surface. Ron eyed the stack of books on Hagrid's table and browsed the titles. "Dragon training books?" he muttered in disbelief. "This is worse than Fluffy!"

"It's moving!" Harry hissed suddenly, staring in horror as the black egg began to shake a bit. Hagrid beamed happily and quickly scooped up the egg and deposited it on the table.

“I’ve been waitin’ a long time for it teh hatch,” he said earnestly. “Come teh Mama, now!”

Everyone watched as the egg slowly began to crack. A skinny body with bulging orange eyes, stubs of horns and a long snout emerged from the crumbled shell. "What kind of dragon is it?" Harry asked nervously.

Ron studied the dragon thoughtfully. "Norwegian Ridgeback." When everyone stared at him in disbelief, he held up his hands in defense. "What? My brother works with dragons! I ought to know _some_ things."

"Isn't he wonderful?" Hagrid asked joyfully, gently stroking the dragon's back and pulling his finger away when the dragon tried to bite him. "No, bad Norbert! Don' bite yer Mummy!"

‘ _Norbert?’_ Harry mouthed. Ron bit his knuckles to keep from laughing and Hermione just cradled her head in her hands.

"Do you know how big a dragon gets?" Ron asked Hagrid when he managed to control himself. "Especially a Norwegian Ridgeback? Hagrid, you _know_ you can't keep a dragon on school grounds."

Hagrid looked devastated. "But—"

"Please, Hagrid!" Hermione pleaded. "Ron's brother Charlie works with dragons! I'm sure he'll be able to find Norbert a good home."

Hagrid hesitated, but eventually nodded. "I suppose yer right...don' know what I was thinkin'."

"Just keep Norbert a secret until Charlie—uh, _my_ Charlie, gives us an answer," Ron instructed. "We'll be back tonight to see how it's going."

"Are you crazy?" Charlie hissed as they left Hagrid's hut. "We need to tell a teacher!"

"We don't want Hagrid to get in trouble," Ron said firmly. "I'll go up to the Owlery right away and ask him what we should do."

Charlie and Hermione exchanged looks. "Good luck," Hermione muttered.

"We'll cover for you, but we won't take part in your smuggle out a dragon plan," Charlie agreed.

"Fine!" Ron slung an arm around Harry. "Harry will help me! Won't you Harry?"

"Do I have to?”

"Yes. Yes you do."

...

The dragon lingered on their minds, but Charlie and Hermione tried to forget about it as they concentrated on their schoolwork. Ron hadn’t told them if his brother had replied and Charlie wondered if she should interfere. She didn’t want Hagrid to get in trouble and she figured the consequences for keeping an illegal dragon were severe. Ron seemed confident in his abilities to handle the situation so she decided to let him be.

It was during dinner midway through the week when Harry approached them, face pale. “We have a problem,” he hissed.

“What?” asked Charlie in dismay.

"Ron's in the infirmary! The stupid thing bit him and now I'm all by myself. I can't do this alone!"

Letting out a groan, the three quickly left the Great Hall so Harry could tell them the whole story without being overheard. "Let’s have it,” said Charlie wearily.

"Ron and I went to tell Hagrid the good news. Charlie responded this morning and he said that some friends would come pick up the dragon at the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday. Hagrid was upset, but he agreed, and asked Ron to help him feed Norbert. That’s when the dragon bit him!"

Hermione gasped softly. "Is he okay?”

"His hand swelled up and is turning green and purple, but I got him to Madam Pomfrey as fast as I could. I think she's suspicious."

"I don't blame her," Charlie muttered.

"Anyway, the problem is now I don't have anyone to help me carry the dragon to the tallest tower tomorrow night!" Harry clasped his hands together and looked at them both desperately. "Please help me out!"

"I really think you should inform Professor Dumbledore of what's going on," Charlie insisted. “This is clearly getting out of hand.”

"But then Hagrid will get into trouble!" Harry exclaimed. "I know Dumbledore's nice and all, but Hagrid brought a dragon on school property! There’s no way he can let that slide.”

“Okay, fine! If Ron doesn't feel better by Saturday then I'll give you a hand."

"Thank you! You're the best friend ever!"

“Why do I feel like this is a bad idea?” she asked Hermione. When she was given an irate look in response, Charlie muttered, “Right. Stupid question.”

...

"What do you think that was all about?" Draco asked, watching as the Hufflepuff practically fled the Great Hall with the two Ravenclaws on his heels.

“Who cares?” Pansy sent a disgusted glower after them.

“They were whispering for a bit. Lupin seems frantic. They might be in trouble.”

Pansy perked up at that. “Maybe we can make it worse.”

“Let’s find out,” said Draco with a snicker.

They left the Great Hall and crept into the Entrance Hall, where the three were deep in conversation. The Slytherins slipped behind a pillar and listened intently. By the end of it, Harry hurried off and Hermione and Charlie went up the stairs.

“I can’t believe it!” crooned Pansy. “That oaf actually brought a dragon onto school grounds!”

“If Potter is the one helping to smuggle it out, it’ll be perfect,” said Draco, his eyes gleaming. “Though I’ll be fine with just Weasley and Lupin getting expelled.”

“If she’s not, we’ll find a chance to get her next time,” said Pansy with a wide smirk. “Besides, it’ll be wonderful to see her face when her little friends are kicked out of the castle.”

...

Harry was preoccupied for the rest of the week and was rather useless in his classes. Hermione managed to prevent him from blowing up his cauldron in Potions for the third time, shooting a glance at Snape to see if he’d noticed.

"For heaven's sake, pay attention!" she hissed at him.

“Easy for you to say,” muttered Harry. “You’re going to be snug in bed on Saturday.”

He fixed the order of his ingredients and continued brewing. Snape prowled down the rows, eyeing each cauldron critically and making scathing comments. He had not tried to move Charlie from her friends since her cauldron exploded. It helped that she didn’t give him much excuse to do so—she mostly kept quiet and her assignments always turned out well, much to his displeasure.

Ron was still in the infirmary, the dragon bite making a slow recovery. Harry knew Charlie was as nervous as he was, as it was becoming clear that there was a good chance she would have to take Ron’s place. Harry pictured the path to the tallest tower in his mind, trying to determine how difficult it would be to travel with a dragon hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak.

He absent-mindedly went to add an ingredient to his potion and yelped softly when Hermione grabbed his wrist.

"For the _last time,_ stop trying to blow us all to bits!"

To his relief, Potions ended soon enough and the three left the dungeons. “Well, we better see how Ron is doing,” spoke Charlie.

When they arrived in the infirmary, it was to see Ron in a heated argument with Pomfrey.

"But I feel fine!" snapped Ron, trying to get out of bed.

"Will you sit still?" Pomfrey snapped, flicking her wand. Ron was pulled back into bed and he gave an angry glare. "Don't you look at me like that, Mr. Weasley! I have no idea what’s happened to your hand, and you say you have no clue. How do I know it's not contagious?"

"It's not!" Ron wailed, desperate to escape the stern medic-witch. "I'm pretty sure it's just a bite of some sorts! A bite isn't contagious!"

Pomfrey frowned suspiciously. "What on earth could have bitten you? Your hand was the size of a balloon when you were first brought here."

Ron's hand was looking much better indeed. It had gone down in size and the colour was slowly turning back to his regular skin tone.

"I don't know what bit me,” said Ron stubbornly. “But it's looking much better, see?”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Weasley, you will stay until I am sure you will make a full recovery,” said Pomfrey unyieldingly.

“Seriously?”

“I suggest you cooperate before I call Professor McGonagall to help deal with you.” That was more than enough to send Ron into silence. Giving a nod of satisfaction, Pomfrey turned to see his friends hovering in the doorway. “You may have a quick visit,” she instructed.

She left them alone and they gathered by Ron’s bedside. “She’s never going to let me out of here,” groaned Ron.

"Do you think she knows?" Harry asked nervously.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would have sent Ron to the Headmaster if she did."

Harry sent Charlie an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” said Charlie with a sigh. “Get better, Ron. If it all goes wrong, I’m sure you’ll hear about it.”

"Good luck,” said Ron. “You’ll be fine. You have your Invisibility Cloak, after all. Nothing will go wrong.”

Charlie made a face. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to say that? Now you’ve jinxed us.”

...

Saturday night came much too quickly for Harry's liking. He snuck out of his common room around eleven. Charlie lifted up the Cloak and motioned for Harry to get under the shimmering folds. “Did Hermione give you much trouble?”

“No, not really. She wants us to pull this off as much as we do. She doesn’t want Hagrid to get in trouble either.”

They crept out of the castle and towards Hagrid’s hut. Charlie rapped on the door and whispered, “Hagrid, it’s us.”

The large man opened the door, peering into the dark night nervously. "I really appreciate yeh doin' this, yeh two."

"It's no problem," said Harry. “How’s Norbert doing?”

“Feisty tonight.”

“Great,” grumbled Harry.

The crate Norbert was tucked in was shaking, the dragon hissing in agitation from the closed-in space. Charlie eyed it warily. “Yeah. He’s definitely feisty.”

“How’s Ron doin’?” asked Hagrid anxiously.

“Better,” assured Charlie.

They let Hagrid say his goodbyes and they picked up the crate. It was awkward carrying the bulky box between them and trying to keep the cloak from being jostled loose. They moved across the grounds, through the castle corridors and up the stairs with great care. Harry yelped when Norbert jerked in his crate and caused him to stumble back a step.

"He's trying to push me down the stairs!"

"Don't be ridiculous,” said Charlie in exasperation.

They made it to the top of the tower, where they set the crate down and shrugged off the Cloak. Charlie scanned the dark sky and soon enough there was a pair of shadowy dots approaching them.

“Thank Merlin,” breathed Harry.

"Hello there!" came a cheerful voice as the two landed. “I hear you got a dragon for us."

"Yup,” confirmed Harry. “A baby Norwegian Ridgeback."

The other male whistled. "Impressive. Well, we'll take it off your hands for you. I gotta say, you're pretty brave for lugging that thing around the castle at night."

"It was no problem."

“What happened to Ron?”

“He’s in the infirmary,” explained Charlie. “He, uh, wasn’t able to make it.”

“Too bad. Well, let him know Charlie says hello. And that he expects this won’t ever happen again.”

“Trust me, it won’t.”

The two males waved goodbye and flew off, the dragon snug in the harness hanging between them. When they were out of sight Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. "Phew! Glad that's over with."

" _What do you two think you're doing_?"

Charlie and Harry screamed in fright and whirled around. Harry paled upon seeing a furious McGonagall standing in front of the tower exit, nostrils flaring. She had Draco and Pansy by the arms and the two Snakes seemed to be as stricken by this development as they were.

"We were just stargazing,” said Harry, a bit helplessly, knowing that nothing they said would get them out of this mess.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "These two here seem to think you're smuggling out a dragon."

"They are!" Pansy insisted.

"You just have to go to the infirmary and look at Weasley’s hand,” added Draco.

“I don’t know what happened to his hand,” said Charlie. She hated lying, but it was necessary sometimes when living with the Dursleys. “It certainly wasn’t a dragon.”

"She’s lying!" Pansy cried. "I overheard them, I swear!”

"So!" McGonagall snapped. "You two thought it would be funny if you tricked these Slytherins. Thought it would be funny if they made a fool of themselves tracking down a teacher and spoke nonsense about a dragon."

"Yes ma'am," admitted Harry. If she was going to unwittingly offer them a reason, he was going to take it. “But it clearly backfired on us.”

"This is ridiculous! I am surprised at the both of you. You two are in trouble as well,” added McGonagall when she caught sight of the smug grins on the Slytherins’ faces. “You know better than to be out of bed past curfew.”

"But they had a dragon—" Draco tried desperately.

"Enough!" McGonagall snapped. "To bed with all of you. We'll discuss this appalling behaviour tomorrow morning, after breakfast!"

...

"So," Hermione said sarcastically as the group of friends went to breakfast the next morning. "Nothing would go wrong, huh?"

Ron flushed. “They were close. At least the dragon is safe.”

“Never mind the dragon. What about us?” asked Harry moodily.

“To make matters worse, we forgot the Cloak at the top of the tower,” said Charlie in despair.

“At least McGonagall didn’t see it.”

Charlie usually didn’t have much of an appetite but it was non-existent that morning. Eventually McGonagall stood and walked down the aisle, sending Harry and Charlie a stern glance. Taking this as their cue, the two stood up.

“What does Professor Flitwick’s face look like?” asked Charlie in a low voice.

Hermione snuck a glance at the High Table, flinching at the hard, disapproving expression the tiny professor aimed at Charlie. “I wouldn’t look if I were you.”

Not entirely sure if she would prefer Flitwick or McGonagall punishing her, Charlie shuffled out of the Great Hall after Harry. They walked to McGonagall’s office and obediently sat in the chairs situated across from her desk.

“What about Malfoy and Parkinson?” asked Harry suspiciously.

"Professor Snape has already dealt with them," McGonagall said sharply. "Professors Flitwick and Sprout gave me permission to handle yours, since I am the one who caught you. But you can both expect a visit from your Head of House later in the day.”

Harry and Charlie winced.

"I will be taking fifty points from both of you. You will meet Mr. Filch in the Entrance Hall tomorrow at eleven o’clock in the evening. He will escort you to Hagrid and your detention will be spent in the Forbidden Forest. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused.

“If you ever pull such a foolish stunt again, the consequences will be severe. Prepare for your classes.”

The two scurried out of her office. “Well, that could have been worse,” muttered Charlie.

Harry groaned. "Hufflepuff is already in last place! My Housemates are going to kill me. How much do you want to bet Parkinson and Malfoy didn't get _any_ points taken away? In fact, I bet their detention is nothing but an extra foot on an essay or something."

Coming to a sudden halt in the corridor, Charlie said apprehensively, “You don’t think they’ll have to serve detention with us, do you?”

“I really hope not.” A frown crossing his features, Harry said, “It doesn’t make much sense, does it? We get in trouble for being out after curfew. So our detention is set _after_ curfew in the _Forbidden_ Forest. What kind of logic is that?”

“How about you go right back to Professor McGonagall and tell her such?”

“I’m not _stupid_ , thank you very much.”


	12. Detention and WHAT IS THAT?

When Flitwick instructed her to stay behind at the end of Charms class, Charlie was far from surprised. Hermione and Ron glanced at her in sympathy before scurrying out. The raven-haired girl could not help but shrink back slightly when he turned his piercing gaze onto her.

“Would you like to inform me what you and Mr. Lupin were thinking?” asked Flitwick coolly.

“I suppose the answer is that we _weren’t_ thinking.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t get clever with me at this moment, Miss Potter.”

“Sorry, sir. Um, I don’t know. Draco and Pansy are always making comments, so I thought I might get them back.”

“If you are being bullied, Miss Potter, you speak to me, and I will take care of it,” said Flitwick sharply. “You do not seek revenge against students you don’t get along with. It only backfires on everyone, as you’ve discovered for yourself. What you did was shameful and dishonourable. I am very disappointed in you.”

“I’m sorry,” said Charlie quietly.

“I should hope so. Do I need to speak with Professor Snape about how they are treating you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, it’s fine. It’s really nothing serious. I’ll try to ignore them from now on.”

“See that you do. If what they say truly upsets you, let me know.”

“I will.”

“Off with you, now. And please, stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charlie hurried out the classroom and found Ron and Hermione waiting for her in the corridor. “How’d it go?” asked Hermione.

She grimaced. “He’s disappointed, which is worse than anger. Well, unless it’s coming from my relatives. I’ve gotten used to it from them.”

“Any luck with your Invisibility Cloak?” asked Ron hopefully.

“No. I’ve searched as much of this castle as I can during breaks but I haven’t come across it. Peeves hasn’t seen it, either.”

Ron gave a shake of his head. “I can’t believe you managed to make friends with that poltergeist. He hardly likes anyone.”

They separated for their next class, where Hermione and Charlie joined up with Harry for Herbology. They could tell by the way Harry kept his distance from Sprout, his cheeks flushed with humiliation, that he had also gotten an earful from his Head of House.

“Was it bad?” asked Charlie in a low voice.

“Not entirely,” muttered Harry. “She doesn’t yell, but she definitely makes her displeasure known. She’s really disappointed and I hate that. Not to mention my Housemates are giving me the cold shoulder. We are definitely out of the running for third place, let alone anything above that.”

“At least Gryffindor still has a chance,” said Charlie positively. “Maybe Slytherin won’t win the House Cup this year.”

“Miss Potter and Mr. Lupin!” snapped Sprout, causing the two to jump. “I’m not speaking because I enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice. Kindly pay attention!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

...

Evening came and Charlie and Harry met Filch, and to their dismay, Draco and Pansy in the Entrance Hall. The bitter caretaker led them outside, the forest a mere blob in the pitch-black night. The torch he carried cast a dim glow of orange light, feebly guiding their way.

"Maybe this'll teach you brats to behave, eh? I got some punishments that'll ensure that you do if Professor Dumbledore ever needs suggestions,” he said with a cackle.

Draco and Pansy were as terrified as they were furious. Charlie felt some guilt, for though they had tried to get them in trouble, they were technically in the right. They were nasty in their intents, but they had been right.

“Sorry,” she spoke, sending a glance at the two Slytherins. “It was never our intention to get anyone in trouble.”

“Then you shouldn’t have lied,” hissed Pansy. “Now we’re going to die tonight because of you!”

“I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would let us go into the Forbidden Forest if there was a chance we were going to die,” said Charlie patiently. “And be honest. If you had been in my shoes, what would you have done? Told the truth and risk expulsion?”

“I’d never get expelled,” said Draco haughtily. “My father wouldn’t allow it.”

But other than that, they made no further comments, and Charlie figured she had impressed them with that argument.

They reached the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, the dense interior dark and uninviting. Hagrid lumbered over to meet them, Fang bounding beside him. “There yeh are! I’ll take it from here. Mr. Filch.”

Filch cast them a glare before staggering off, muttering under his breath. Harry stared at Hagrid with wide brown eyes. "Are we really going in there?"

"Don' worry! Everything will be perfectly fine!" Hagrid assured them.

“Then why do you have that?” asked Pansy, pointing at the crossbow he carried.

“Er…just bein’ prepared,” said Hagrid. “But I don’ think I’ll need teh use it.”

“Very comforting,” said Draco scathingly.

"What are we going to be doing?" Charlie asked.

Hagrid looked solemn. He raised his lantern higher in the air so the kids could see the long, twisting dirt path that led into the forest. A thin trail of silvery substance matted the ground, glinting as the light caught it.

Draco paled. “Is that unicorn blood?”

"That's right. Somethin’s bin killin' the unicorns in the forest. I don' know what, but we have teh find the poor thing an’ maybe put it out o’ its misery."

Harry stared at Hagrid in shock. "But what would kill a unicorn? Killing a unicorn is a horrible thing!"

Hagrid was grim. "Whatever it is, its bin drinkin' their blood."

Pansy made a disgusted choking sound and Charlie’s eyes widened. Harry turned a light shade of green. "But why?" he rasped.

"Depends on how desperate the creature. Unicorn's blood can keep a person alive, no matter how close teh death. But if yeh slay such a beautiful creature teh save yerself, yeh'll have a half-life that's cursed the second the blood touches yer lips.”

Charlie gulped and nervously peered into the forest. "What if the thing hunting the unicorns comes and hunts us?"

"Nothin' will happen teh yeh as long as Fang an’ I are with yeh," Hagrid promised. "We'll split inteh two parties. Malfoy an’ Harry, yeh can have Fang. Parkinson an’ Charlotte, yeh can come with me.”

Draco reluctantly shuffled over to Harry. Fang ran circles around them, wagging his tail madly.

“If yer in trouble or see somethin’ suspicious, send up some red sparks. Green if yeh find the body. Yeh know how ter do that, right?” When they all nodded, Hagrid added, “Stick teh the path, boys.”

“Fine,” muttered Draco. “Let’s get this over with.”

Draco and Harry started down the path in one direction, while Pansy and Charlie followed Hagrid down the other. For a while, there was only the sound of wind whistling through branches and crunching leaves. Charlie peered around, heart thudding in her chest.

_If Professor McGonagall is trying to make a point, she’s definitely done it. Do not wander through the castle after curfew or else be sent into the forest to possibly be eaten. Harry is right. What kind of detention is this?_

Something ahead moved and Hagrid immediately shoved the two girls behind him. “Come out!” he bellowed. “Show yerself!”

A centaur stepped out from the foliage. He eyed Hagrid’s crossbow with mild intrigue. “It’s a bit late to be hunting, Hagrid.”

“Ronan,” said Hagrid in relief. “Good ter see yeh. Nah, course I ain’t huntin’. Lookin’ fer the thing that’s bin killin’ the unicorns. Yeh see anythin’ weird lately?”

“Mars has been brighter than usual.”

“Not what I meant,” muttered Hagrid.

Ronan’s eyes strayed past Hagrid and fell on the children. Pansy’s lips were pinched, as if being in the presence of a centaur had only made her night that much worse. Charlie peered at him curiously.

“And who might they be?”

“Pansy Parkinson and Charlotte Potter,” introduced Hagrid. “Girls, this is Ronan.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Charlie.

“It is very brave of you to join Hagrid in his efforts.”

Pansy gave a scoff. “I wouldn’t in here at all if it weren’t for her,” she sneered, glowering at Charlie.

“Enough o’ that,” said Hagrid sharply. “Yer at fault as much as she is.”

“Actually, it’s your fault,” said Pansy coldly. “You’d think a staff member of this school would have enough brains to keep a dragon off the grounds. I should have reported you instead of Potter and her stupid friends.”

When Hagrid froze, Charlie turned to glare at Pansy. “Okay, enough. You’re upset. I get it. But keep your dislike directed at me. Not Hagrid.”

“I don’t like him much either, but I do despise you more.”

Ronan regarded Charlie for a moment, how she simply shook her head at Pansy’s attitude. She sent a stiff Hagrid an apologetic look and mouthed ‘sorry’. “You have an unpleasant demeanour,” the centaur told Pansy, who’s face twisted in shock at his bluntness. “Good luck with your search, Hagrid.”

He disappeared deeper into the forest and Pansy scowled. “Well. He was useless.”

“Perhaps he really didn’t know anything,” pointed out Charlie.

“Centaurs usually know more than they let on. They like their secrets,” muttered Hagrid.

“What did he mean about Mars?”

Hagrid snorted. “They do a lot o’ stargazing. Always talkin’ about the planets. Load o’ cadswallop, in my opinion, but don’ tell them that. Come on, then. Let’s keep goin’.”

They continued down the path. With Hagrid’s back firmly to them, Pansy shot out her foot and Charlie found herself striking the ground hard, bits of twigs and rock scratching against her palms. Heaving herself back to her feet with a weary sigh, she couldn’t help but figure she deserved that.

_I hope Draco hasn’t killed Harry yet._

…

"This is really freaking me out," Harry whispered.

“Scared?” said Draco arrogantly. “Typical of a Hufflepuff to cower at the sound of wind.”

"Don’t think I haven’t noticed your hands shaking this whole time.”

The blonde sent Harry a glare, tucking his hands further inside the sleeves of his robes. Gripping his wand, Harry followed Fang closely, eyes darting about. The unicorn blood seemed to stretch endlessly, and he felt sorry for the creature that was no doubt in severe agony.

He came to a screeching halt when he heard an odd sound—a cloak dragging against the forest floor. Draco furrowed his brow. “Who is possibly moronic enough to be here?”

"Shh!" Harry hissed. “Unless someone else is serving a detention, no one. The unicorn has to be nearby. If the thing that tried to kill it is still hanging around, it means the unicorn got away before it could drink its blood.”

“Then let’s fire green sparks.”

“We don’t know how close it is,” said Harry. “Let’s look over that hill.”

The blood dipped down a slope, preventing the two boys from seeing what lay ahead. When Draco froze in place, Harry asked mockingly, “Scared?”

“No,” snarled Draco.

They crept forwards and peered over the edge. Down in a small, grassy clearing was the body of the unicorn. Stooped above it was a thin creature in a black cloak, drinking the blood directly from the deceased unicorn.

Draco let out a terrified shriek and the cloaked figure whipped its head up. Whimpering in fright, Fang swung around and streaked off. Harry felt his body pitch forwards as the large dog accidently knocked into him in his hasty retreat. Harry yelped as he fell, slamming into the thick roots at the bottom of the short slope.

He craned his neck upwards, only to see nothing. “You git!” he hollered, though he doubted Draco could hear him. He shrunk back, fear coursing through his veins as the creature slunk towards him. He fumbled for his wand but couldn’t find it and his heart threatened to explode from his chest.

“Help!”

...

For a moment, Charlie was able to relax. They hadn’t come across anything strange or dangerous, and they hadn’t come across the dead unicorn either. She glanced at the sky continuously, keeping alert for any sparks Harry or Draco might send up.

She collapsed to the ground, suddenly and unexpectedly, as a feeling of pure terror wrenched through her gut. She let out a gasp, clutching her stomach.

Pansy glanced back at her and shouted, “Oi! I think Potter’s going to be sick!”

The fear was intense and all-consuming. She struggled to catch her breath. She didn’t understand what was happening. She wasn’t scared. She was fine. But what was—

_Harry._

She could see him—he was shrinking back against tree roots as a dark creature moved quickly towards him. Harry was in danger and she knew exactly how to get to him.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” said Hagrid anxiously, crouching next to her.

Without thinking about the impossibility of the situation and unable to form words, she hastily got up and sprinted through the trees. Pansy watched as the girl raced off the path and crashed through the foliage. “Is she mad?”

“Charlie!” bellowed Hagrid. _“Charlie!”_

She registered the man shouting her name but ignored the summons. She kept running, following the route her heart seemed to know and came upon Fang halfway. Draco was a distance behind, panting heavily. “Keep following him!” she instructed as she streaked past him. “He’ll take you to Hagrid!”

She didn’t pause to hear what Draco might have said. She kept running and was suddenly grateful for all the years of Dudley chasing her. Her speed and endurance were strong and refined and when she came upon the slope she leapt daringly over the edge. Charlie landed directly in front of Harry just as the creature was mere feet away.

Her mind was cloudy and confused, and her scar seared with a pain she had not known before. She nearly crumpled but remained upright. Tears pricked her eyes and she was heaving for breath, her lungs burning from exertion. Through the haze she raised her wand and pointed it at the creature, which had halted at her arrival. 

It snarled at her, and though there were no words she could practically hear the venom dripping from the simple sound.

Before she could even think about fumbling for a spell to cast, something galloped over them and landed in a protective stance in front of them. The centaur stamped his hooves threateningly before beginning to charge. It was enough to scare the creature off and it fled into the shadows of the forest.

"Are you crazy?" Harry exclaimed once his blood stopped rushing through his ears and his tongue started working again. "That thing could have killed you!"

The pain eased and Charlie slowly straightened, hand clasped over her scar. “It could have killed you,” she retorted.

“How did you know where I was?” asked Harry in bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” muttered Charlie. Turning to face the palomino centaur, she said gratefully, “Thank you for saving us.”

"It was no trouble. Are you injured?" the centaur questioned, peering at them with bright blue eyes.

"No, we’re fine.”

Charlie lowered her hand, her bangs sticking upwards with sweat. Regarding the scar that marred her forehead, the centaur said, “Charlotte Potter. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Tell me about it,” said Charlie in exhaustion, thinking the centaur was referring to the danger the forest held. “May I ask your name?”

“Firenze. And you are?” the centaur directed towards the boy.

“Harry Lupin,” he answered.

“Let me assist you. We will move quicker if I carry you both.”

“No, we couldn’t,” said Charlie quickly.

“It is no trouble.”

Firenze lowered so that the children would be able to climb onto his back. After a moment of hesitation, Charlie carefully situated herself. Harry climbed the slope to grab his wand before settling behind her. Firenze galloped through the forest and after travelling some ground, they came upon Ronan and another centaur.

“Ronan, Bane,” greeted Firenze.

Bane stared at the two children with a scandalized expression. “Firenze, what do you think you’re doing? Carrying people like a common horse! Have you no honour? No dignity?”

“I consider it a great honour to be offering assistance to Charlotte Potter,” said Firenze calmly.

Ronan shot a look at the eleven-year-old girl, whose face was white and glistening with sweat. The scar was red and her fingers reached to itch at it, her eyes perturbed and uneased. “It is not your place to interfere with what the heavens predict,” he said shortly.

“No, but it is my place to rid the forest of that disgusting creature,” returned Firenze. “I will not have it intrude upon my home or harm its inhabitants any longer. I will return shortly.”

Without giving them a chance to respond, Firenze continued onwards. “I’m sorry we got you in trouble,” said Charlie softly.

“They were merely displeased. It won’t last long.”

“Firenze, what was that thing?” asked Harry.

He answered Harry’s question with one of his own. “Do you know what happens when one kills a unicorn in order to drink it’s blood?”

“Yeah. Hagrid told us. But I don’t get it. Why would someone want to do that to themselves?”

“Only people so cruel and with nothing to lose would slay a unicorn for their blood. In this case, it is more of a strategy. To use it to keep themselves alive until they are able to procure something better.”

Firenze shifted his gaze over his shoulder. Harry’s brow was furrowed in confusion but Charlie’s eyes were wide with stunned disbelief. She looked behind her, her expression one of horror. She did not say it aloud, but her lips formed the name ‘Voldemort’.

"There yeh are!" Hagrid rushed forwards down the path with Pansy, Draco and Fang right behind him. He helped Charlie and Harry off Firenze’s back. “What happened?” he asked anxiously.

"We encountered the thing that's been drinking unicorn's blood,” said Harry with a shudder. "Charlie came out of nowhere to try and help me. Firenze saved us both.” Shooting a glower at Draco, he said, “Thanks a lot.”

“Self-preservation,” said Draco with a sniff. “And don’t whine. You’re alive. Unfortunately.”

"Thank yeh," Hagrid said gratefully to the centaur. "I'll take care o' 'em now."

Firenze nodded. "Then I shall get back to my herd. Good luck Charlotte Potter.” He turned serious eyes on the girl. “I hope the planets are wrong. They have been before.”

He retreated deeper into the forest and Charlie frowned after him. How had he known? Could centaurs really read the planets and the stars?

Hagrid did not give her time to dwell on it, for he instantly glared sternly at her and barked, "What were yeh thinkin'? Runnin' off by yerself in the Forbidden Forest! Yeh could have bin killed! Yeh almost were killed! An' yeh two!" Draco and Harry recoiled when Hagrid turned on them. "Why didn' yeh send up the sparks if yeh were in trouble?"

"And wait for you to find us?” said Draco indigently. “I wanted to live, thanks.”

“I dropped my wand,” muttered Harry.

“Do yeh have it now?”

“Yeah.”

"I'm really sorry for scaring you Hagrid," Charlie spoke up.

Hagrid eyed her and Harry before letting out a sigh. "Don' do that teh me again. I'd be very upset if yeh were hurt. Now stay right here. I'm gonna take a look at the unicorn."

He sauntered off and Pansy turned to glare at Charlie. “I hate you.”

“I know,” said Charlie tiredly.

…

It was after breakfast the next morning when Charlie gathered Harry, Ron and Hermione into a secluded corner of the library. In a low voice, she explained to Ron and Hermione about their detention and the strange sensation that had overcome her.

"I don't know what happened," she finished in confusion. "It was so weird."

"You nearly fell to the ground," Harry noted. "Your scar must have really been hurting.”

"I felt like I was going to faint.”

Hermione frowned. "It's only ever done that when Quirrell was around."

“But why would Quirrell drink unicorn’s blood?” asked Ron.

Charlie bit her bottom lip. “There’s something else I have to tell you. When Firenze was bringing us to Hagrid, he said that the creature who was drinking the blood was using it as a strategy. Until he could get something stronger, better.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone!” said Hermione in realization. “But Quirrell is nowhere near death. Or he doesn’t seem to be. Why would he need to use unicorn blood in place of the Stone?”

“Hagrid told me that he doesn’t think Voldemort was really gone,” said Charlie, ignoring the violent flinch from her male friends. “That though he couldn’t kill me that night, he didn’t die. He thinks he’s still around. Waiting. For a chance to get back to life.”

“No!” said Ron in terror. “That creature—you think it was You-Know-Who?”

“That’s what Firenze told me, in not so many words.”

“That’s impossible! No one has seen him for years!”

“What's one of the rumours that surround Quirrell and his stutter?" asked Charlie.

Ron thought for a moment. “My brothers have mentioned a few. The popular one is that he went to Albania on a mission for Dumbledore—something about ridding Dark Magic from the area. When he came back, he had a stutter and was acting weird."

Charlie could feel her heart pounding. "When was the last supposed Dark Lord sighting?"

“Why do you want to know?"

"Ron!"

"Okay! Some say it was Albania—oh no!"

“It’s just a theory,” said Hermione nervously.

“Who would be desperate enough to drink unicorn's blood? The person that's the closest to death as an immortal being can be," said Charlie grimly.

"Voldemort is immortal?" Hermione asked in surprise.

Charlie looked at Hermione in admiration. She was getting tired of being the only person that called him by his name. "How else could he have survived for this long? How else could he have survived the curse that was meant for me but hit him instead?”

They fell silent. "Do you think we should tell someone?" Ron finally asked.

"We don't even know if any of this is true!" Hermione snapped. "I'm sure Hagrid will tell Professor Dumbledore what happened tonight. If we can jump to these conclusions, I’m sure he already knows. He’ll take care of it."

“Then why is Quirrell still here?” demanded Ron, and Hermione did not have a rebuttal for him this time.

Charlie stared out the window, an ugly knot forming in her gut. She had a horrible feeling that something was going to go very wrong very soon.

And she was going to be a part of it.


	13. Down the Trapdoor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words in bold are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

Dumbledore regarded Charlie over pressed fingers the next morning at breakfast. Hagrid had visited him very early that morning with an urgent message. Charlotte Potter had encountered the unicorn-slaughtering beast, and had only escaped due to the precise timing of Firenze. He felt regret for encouraging the Heads of House to send the children into the Forbidden Forest for their detention. He understood why they had their concerns, but he felt it was the best course of action. The weakened Voldemort needed to be caught before he could do any true damage and he thought by sending Charlie…

His eyes closed briefly. A great deal of self-disgust welled within him. He hadn’t expected the girl to run from Hagrid’s side and it had nearly cost her her life. Her and one other…

Somehow, she had known Harry was in trouble. She raced right to his side, without the use of a magical beacon to discern his location. He furrowed his brow, deep in thought. This was a rather interesting development. It seemed some sort of magical bond had formed between the two.

_But how? When they have spent only a short time together?_

This would complicate the situation. He watched as Charlie and her friends quickly finished their breakfast before practically running out of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione were about to learn the events of the previous night, and no doubt discover the strange occurrence that brought Charlie directly to Harry.

They would have questions. They might even search for answers. He made a mental note to request that Madam Pince put any books related to magical bonds to the Restricted Section. He doubted it would stop them but it would at the very least delay them. Charlie had already proven herself to be sharp and intelligent.

But he needed time. Right now, he had other matters to attend to. Voldemort would strike soon. The Philosopher’s Stone was no doubt his goal but it would be impossible for him to get to.

Dumbledore shifted his gaze to the place at the High Table where Quirrell usually sat. It was empty. Snape was also gone, no doubt to ensure Quirrell was staying out of trouble. It was becoming obvious that something was off with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

The only problem was Dumbledore, and Snape for that matter, had no idea just how closely Quirrell was working with Voldemort.

...

"It’s back, by the way,” Charlie announced to Ron as they headed for Charms. Ron cast her a puzzled look and she elaborated. "I found my Invisibility Cloak underneath my sheets last night when I got back from detention. I forgot to mention it, given everything else that happened.”

"It's just one weird thing after another, isn't it?" Ron muttered. He sat at the front of the classroom, which wasn’t his choice, but Charlie and Hermione refused to sit anywhere else.

Charlie agreed. But the sudden reappearance of her Cloak was far from the strangest thing to be happen to her this week. She was more concerned with the connection between Quirrell and Voldemort.

They had all come to the agreement that there was a strong likelihood that Quirrell was working to steal the Stone for Voldemort. Ron had offered the suggestion that Voldemort and Quirrell were actually the same person, but he was greeted with doubt. He had been annoyed by the quick rejection of his theory, but he supposed even Dumbledore would have to know that Voldemort was under his very nose.

But Charlie didn’t have an explanation for why her scar hurt. Actually, it didn’t make sense why it hurt at all. It didn’t make an itch during her eleven years at the Dursleys.

"Maybe you should tell Professor Flitwick," Hermione whispered, bringing Charlie out of her deep thoughts. "You've said your scar has been hurting more than usual, right?"

"Perhaps her scar is giving her a warning," Ron suggested.

Charlie briefly wondered if the two could read minds before sending Ron a thoughtful look. “Can scars do that?”

“I haven’t read much into curse scars, but I wouldn’t think so,” said Hermione with a frown. “It’s not a normal thing, is it?”

Ron stared at her. “How is any of this normal?”

“He’s got a point,” agreed Charlie.

Flitwick went around the room and collected their essays. He graciously gave Ron a few more seconds to hastily write up a conclusion for which the redhead gave a sheepish thanks. He then got to the front of the classroom and began their revision for exams, which were only a few days away.

The free time that they had was spent studying for hours on end. They commandeered couches and chairs in the library, pouring over textbooks and quizzing each other. Ron discovered that while it was a bore spending so much time doing work, being friends with two Ravenclaws wasn’t a terrible thing. He was beginning to memorize the answers to the questions and for the first time felt a flare of confidence for the upcoming tests.

Exams arrived and Charlie and Hermione, who never had difficulty with a test in their short school lives, found it to be a breeze. Ron and Harry were shocked to know almost every answer, hardly ever hesitating on a question.

"Finally!" Ron cheered as the four exited the castle, having finished their final exam. They headed for Hagrid's hut for a visit. "Freedom!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really Ron, the exams weren't that bad."

Harry knocked on Hagrid's front door and the large man opened it, his black eyes shining happily. "Hullo there! Finish yer exams, have yeh?"

"Yup," Ron said cheerfully as he sat down on the couch beside Harry and Charlie. "We've come for a visit."

Hagrid got them some drinks and Fang curled up by Hermione's feet. "So, Ron, has Charlie said anythin' about Norbert?" he asked hopefully.

Ron gasped. "Oh! I had forgotten to tell you! Charlie wrote to tell me that Norbert got there safely, and that Norbert is actually a girl dragon."

“Really Ron,” said Hermione in disapproval.

“What?” said Ron defensively. “There was a lot going on when he sent me that letter.”

"I'll be!" Hagrid said in awe. "Norbert is actually Norberta!"

Harry turned his giggles into a quick coughing fit. “That’s a great name.”

Hermione's face suddenly twisted up in confusion. "Hagrid, you never told us where you got the dragon egg in the first place."

Hagrid looked surprised. "I didn’? Nowhere special, really. I won it in a game o' cards. Firs’ time I ever won anythin’ actually.”

"Who'd you win it from?"

"No clue," Hagrid admitted. "The man I won it off of wouldn't take his cloak off."

A stunned silence flowed throughout the room. "What did you talk to the man about?" Harry asked, though he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer.

Hagrid frowned in thought. "Well, he asked me what I did fer a livin'. Told him I was a gamekeeper at Hogwarts an' that I was interested in dragons. He offered one teh me if I could beat him in a game o' cards. But before we played, he wanted teh know if I would be right fer the little guy. So I told him I spent time around a bunch o' different creatures."

Ron was very pale at this point. "Did you mention anything about Fluffy?"

Hagrid stared at them in bewilderment. "Er...I suppose so. He kept buyin' me drinks so I can' remember much. I might o' mentioned that Fluffy was real sweet an’ calm once you lulled 'em to sleep with some music." Then he looked horrified. "I shouldn' have told yeh that!"

The kids didn't give the large man a chance to say anything else. They sprinted from his hut and all the way back to the castle, only stopping in the Entrance Hall to catch their breath.

"It was Quirrell!" Ron babbled. "I bet you it was Quirrell underneath that cloak! And Hagrid! He told him how to get past Fluffy! _Oh no!_ What if it was You-Know-Who?"

"Ron, it doesn't matter who it was!" Hermione snapped. "The Stone will still end up with Voldemort either way! Now it’s time we find Dumbledore and tell him everything we know!"

Hermione led them to Dumbledore’s office, which was guarded by a gargoyle statue. "We need to see Professor Dumbledore right away!" Charlie cried.

The gargoyle frowned at them. "Can't get in without a password," he informed gruffly. "Wouldn't matter anyways, he just left for the Ministry. Fudge summoned him by owl. Needed him for an urgent matter. Won’t be back until tomorrow morning."

"Now what?" Harry wailed.

"It was Quirrell," Hermione breathed. "He must have sent the note to Dumbledore to get him out of the way!”

“How do you know?” asked Ron.

“He certainly wouldn’t try if Dumbledore’s in the castle! Even if he didn’t send the note, he wouldn’t pass up the chance to try while he’s gone!”

“Do you think he’s gone through the trapdoor right now?” asked Harry in horror.

The four were happy the student body of Hogwarts was either outside or in their common rooms. It allowed them to sprint through the corridors without worrying about looking like maniacs. “Ron, go watch the third-floor corridor!” ordered Charlie. “We’re going to split up and find a teacher, any teacher, and let them know what’s going on.”

Ron split off from his friends. He encountered Snowy on the way and was struck with an idea. “Come on, Snowy!” he cried. “I need your help!”

Snowy, sensing the friend of her mistress in distress, followed after him.

The other three also divided, rushing through different parts of the castle in the hopes of finding a professor. It was not long before Harry came upon McGonagall, nearly slamming into her. "Professor!"

"What do you think you're doing?" McGonagall snapped, grabbing the boy by the shoulders to keep him upright. Her stern reprimand evaporated when she spotted the fright on the boy’s face. “What's the matter?"

"The Philosopher’s Stone!" Harry gasped, the adrenaline rushing through his body making it difficult for his brain to form proper sentences. "Gotta get it out of danger! Right now! Third-floor! Quirrell!"

"The Stone?" McGonagall said sharply. She could not fathom how the child had discovered the true purpose of the third-floor corridor. "What do you know about the Stone?"

"It's in danger! Quirrell is going to steal it if we don't hurry!"

"I don't know where you got that idea from nor do I know how you discovered the Stone, but I assure you it is safe. I myself helped place protective enchantments.”

“But Professor—”

“Professor Quirrell has no interest in stealing the Philosopher’s Stone, Mr. Lupin. I’m not sure where these wild ideas are coming from, but they are unfounded. Now I suggest you go see Madam Pomfrey for a Calming Drought. You seem to be having a panic attack."

" _I am not having a panic attack!_ "

"Mr. Lupin!"

Harry was tempted to tell her that Quirrell was going to steal the Stone for Voldemort, but quickly dismissed the idea. If she didn’t believe him when he said that the Stone was in danger, she wasn’t going to believe anything else he said in regards to it. He turned on his heel and raced down the corridor, ignoring her shouts to come back. His heart pounded hard in his chest and he was finding it difficult to breathe.

_Maybe I do need that Calming Drought._

He took a detour for the hospital wing, sliding through the entrance. Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, alerted by his gasping breath. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, rushing to his side.

“I think I’m having a panic attack,” he rasped. “Professor McGonagall sent me here for a Calming Drought.”

Having seen many panic attacks in her tenure at Hogwarts, Pomfrey ushered Harry to a bed and fetched the potion. She made sure he drank the whole dose before helping him lie down in the cot.

"Now Lupin, why don't you just lay here and rest for a moment," she soothed. "Then you can tell me what might have brought the attack on.”

The effects of the potion occurred very quickly. Harry's breathing evened out and the stress eased from his muscles. “It’s the Stone, Madam Pomfrey. It’s in danger.”

Pomfrey stared at him in the same manner McGonagall had. "How do you know about the Stone?" she asked in a stunned whisper.

"It's a long story. But I’m serious. Professor Quirrell is trying to steal it.”

"Don't be ridiculous Lupin. No teacher in this school would ever do such a thing. Even if it were true, no one would be able to get their hands on. I’ve been told it’s perfectly safe.”

_No is going to believe us._

With this discouraging thought in mind, Harry abruptly stood and took off, intent on finding his friends.

...

Charlie was having the same amount of luck as Harry. She came upon a few professors and tried to tell them what was happening, but she received expressions of disbelief and dismissive hand motions. It was, apparently, impossible that Quirrell was capable of such daring deceit.

"I found Professor Snape!" Hermione shrieked when she reunited with Charlie a while later. "I told him everything. He didn’t even bother to threaten me with detention or expulsion or anything—he just ran for the third-floor corridor. But it makes sense, since he’s been suspicious of Quirrell all along.”

"That’s a relief.”

" _He got in!_ "

The two girls whirled around at Ron's howl. The ginger sprinted after Snowy and panted heavily when he reached his friends. "Snape intercepted Quirrell and told him he better stand down or else. But Quirrell managed to knock him out and he’s going for the Stone. Right now.”

Charlie ran a hand through her hair, her mind racing. "Snowy, I need you to please find Harry and bring him here."

The cat took off and returned moments later with Harry stumbling behind her. "What's the matter?"

"Quirrell's gone through the trapdoor," Charlie said. She cast a quick glance out the window closest to them. It was dusk but not yet close to dinner. If the teachers noticed his absence and thought it suspicious, he would already have the Stone in his possession. "No teacher believes us and the one that did got knocked out by Quirrell.”

“What do we do?”

“I’m going after him.”

“But Charlie—” began Hermione.

“There’s not much time left. I know there are protections, but Voldemort…he wouldn’t even bother if he didn’t think it was impossible. He killed my parents, and probably a whole lot of other people. I can’t let him come back to life again. I have to do something.”

"You mean us," Ron corrected firmly. "You're not going without us."

"I can't let you do that."

"No. We're best friends, all of us. We're doing this together."

“Yes,” said Hermione. Though her voice faltered with nervousness and fear, her eyes were determined.

“We’ve got this,” said Harry.

Peering at him, Ron said in bewilderment, “You look far too calm for this.”

“I took a Calming Drought.” When his friends stared at him in confusion, he said, “I’ll tell you later. What’s the plan, Charlie?”

The girl felt a warm, happy feeling spread through her chest. Her friends were sticking beside her even though it would be dangerous. Having them with her, having their support, was all the courage she needed. "One of us will have to stay here and owl Dumbledore and wait for his arrival.”

“Who should do it?” asked Ron. “I mean, I don’t want to leave you three to go down there.”

Charlie quickly explained the concept of Rock, Paper, Scissors to Ron and Harry and they partook in a round. Harry was the winner, and though he seemed uncertain by this task, he knew it had been done in the fairest manner. "Before you go through the trapdoor, I should tell you that McGonagall was one of the people who helped with the enchantments. Expect to encounter some Transfiguration.”

"Got it.”

“Good luck, guys. I’ll be waiting for you.”

They exchanged a round of hugs before they separated. Harry went to the Owlery while the other three sprinted for the third-floor corridor. There they found Snape, slumped and unmoving on the floor. “Is he okay?” asked Charlie in concern.

“Yeah, just knocked out. I checked on him before I came to find you,” said Ron.

When they pushed open the door, they found Fluffy asleep. “Well, he already did that part for us,” remarked Charlie.

"I'll go first," Ron whispered. He jumped through the trapdoor and the two girls could hear the soft thump he made when he landed. "It's fine!" he called up, squinting in the dark space.

Charlie motioned Hermione to go next and quickly followed after the bushy-haired girl. They landed on something squishy and climbed to their feet. “What do you think—”

Whatever Hermione had been about to say was cut off with a shriek as something wrapped tightly around her waist and pulled her into the air. Charlie and Ron cried out before they too were captured and jerked about wildly.

"What is it?" Ron cried, thrashing madly. The grip on him only tightened to the point where he had trouble breathing.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Hermione gasped "Don't struggle! It'll only make it worse."

She and Charlie went still. The grips loosened and they plummeted back to the ground. They could hear Ron shout in panic from above and Charlie sighed. "He's not relaxing."

Hermione shook her head and pulled out her wand. She cast her signature blue flames at the plant and the Devil’s Snare writhed in pain. Ron hollered as he was let go, crashing to the ground. "Professor Sprout's enchantment?" Hermione suggested as she helped Ron up.

"Definitely not Professor McGonagall’s,” Charlie joked and they set off for the next chamber. They went down a stone passageway and she swallowed nervously as it sloped downwards. "I hope there's not a dragon anywhere in here."

“I’m pretty sure Hagrid already made his contribution,” said Ron dryly.

Hermione peered ahead and spotted a light at the end of the passage. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

They reached the end of the passageway and Hermione gasped. They had entered a brightly-lit chamber with a high, domed ceiling. Hundreds of what appeared to be glittering birds flew around the chamber. Ron furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "How are birds an effective enchantment?"

Hermione looked closely. "They're not birds!" she exclaimed. "They're winged keys!"

She and Charlie exchanged a look. "Professor Flitwick, definitely,” said Charlie with a grin.

"So..." Ron said, peering at the large wooden door at the other side of the room. "We need to find the proper key to fit into the lock? How are we going to do that?"

Charlie scanned the many flying keys and her keen eyes spotted a large silver key with a bent wing, flying crookedly around the room. She pointed at it. "That one. Quirrell's already been through here."

“Great Seeker skills,” said Ron, impressed.

There were broomsticks propped against the wall and they each grabbed one. The three kids soared into the mix of rainbow-winged keys and sped for the desired one. Hermione was grateful for Madam Hooch's flying lessons as she whizzed about the room, albeit not as gracefully as her friends.

"Bloody thing!" Ron snapped as the key darted from his reach once more. "Charlie, you're the Seeker! Grab it!"

“Hold on, I’m thinking.” Charlie’s eyes darted about the room, her mind plotting possible strategies. “Okay, Ron, you fly straight at it. Hermione, fly down towards it. I'll speed up from underneath and we should be able to corner it."

Her friends followed her directions and soon the key was speeding for the wall, desperately trying to escape. As they cornered it the key veered from the stone wall and Charlie made a sharp turn to intercept it.

"Got it!" she cheered, the key clutched in her grasp.

They landed and hurried for the large wooden door. Charlie jammed the key into the old-fashioned lock and the door creaked open. The key flew off woozily and the kids hurried into the next chamber.

Charlie whistled softly as they came upon a giant chessboard. She regarded the huge black and white chess pieces. "Found Professor McGonagall’s.”

Ron cautiously approached one of the pieces and tapped it. The knight sprang to life and seemed to peer down at him. "Excuse me, do we have to take the places of three chess pieces to play?" he asked

The knight nodded. Ron rubbed the back of his neck and turned to face the two girls. Charlie held up her hands. "This is your area of expertise, buddy. I stink at chess."

Hermione gave a nod of agreement. “What do we do, Ron?”

Ron smiled and pointed out where he wanted them to go. The chess pieces that they replaced stood up and went off to the side. Ron was a knight, Charlie was a bishop and Hermione was a castle. Charlie flinched whenever they lost their pieces, which were brutally struck down.

All through the game, Ron remained calm. He analyzed every possible move they could make, and pinpointed the path that would lead them to victory. Finally, when it came near the end, he said determinedly, “I'm going to have to sacrifice myself."

"No! You can't!" cried Hermione.

"Look, that's the whole point of chess. You have to make sacrifices. I'll let their queen take me and then Charlie can take out their king!"

Hermione and Charlie watched in horror as Ron stepped forward. The queen reared back and struck him over the head. The ginger fell to the ground hard, blood beginning to ooze from the newly-formed gash on his head. He was dragged off the board, where he lay limp on the cold floor of the chamber. Charlie waited for their turn to come again and stepped forwards. The opposing king threw down his crown, signifying they had won the match.

The two girls rushed over to Ron and checked him over. “Ron?” called Charlie anxiously. “Ron!”

But there was no response. Hermione pressed her fingers against his pulse, a gasp of relief leaving her when she felt it beating. “He’s just unconscious.”

"I'm going to go forward. I want you to stay here with Ron. Don't try to move him. It might not be safe."

“No,” said Hermione firmly. “I’ll come with you and help you solve the next chamber. Then I’ll come back and look after Ron.”

Her expression made it clear that there would be no argument. Charlie nodded and the pair scurried into the next chamber. Charlie wrinkled her nose as a foul smell overtook her senses and she stared at the troll lying still on the ground.

“At least we didn’t have to go another round,” she muttered.

They came upon another chamber, and when they crossed the threshold a purple fire sprang up. Ahead of them, a black fire was blocking the doorway. “And here’s Professor Snape’s contribution,” remarked Charlie.

Seven different bottles rested on the table in front of them, along with a piece of parchment. She picked it up and read it carefully.

**_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._ **

Hermione and Charlie read the parchment a few more times. They studied the vials, and after a moment Charlie said, “The smallest one will take me forward.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Hermione in relief. “And the round bottle at this end—”

“Will take you through the purple flames. Go back to Ron.”

“Will you be okay?”

Hermione was staring at her, with fear and uncertainty. Charlie smiled gently. “There’s only enough for one of us to move forwards anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Knowing that there was nothing more she could do Hermione gave Charlie a strong hug. “I believe in you.”

“Thank you.”

She waited to make sure Hermione made it safely through the purple fire before picking up her vial. She drank the potion and an icy sensation curled through her veins. Squaring her shoulders. Charlie approached the black fire, eyes glinting with determination.

It did not escape her that she was about to face a dangerous wizard. She was only eleven, and had been doing magic for less than a year. She stood no chance. But she had to try. Voldemort had taken her parents away from her. She wasn’t going to let that happen to anyone else, not if she could help it.

"All right Quirrell, ready or not, here I come."

And she walked straight through the black flames.


	14. Victory

"Quirrell.”

The man with the purple turban was caught off guard, much to Charlie's satisfaction. "You don't seem surprised at all," Quirrell managed to say when he collected himself.

Charlie arched an eyebrow. "It took a bit, but I figured it out. To be fair, you’re not surprised to see me.”

Quirrell smirked cruelly. "Not at all. In fact, when I took care of Snape, I expected to see you here eventually. It's a shame Snape wasted so much time trying to keep you safe. I'm going to end up killing you tonight anyways."

He quickly pulled out his wand and struck her with the Body-Bind Curse. Charlie toppled to the floor, arms glued to her sides and feet locked together. Though she was annoyed with herself for not having her wand out in preparation for him, there wasn’t much she would have been able to do. She didn’t know any spells for duelling.

Quirrell was examining the Mirror of Erised from every angle. "Only Dumbledore would use such a thing for a last resort."

Having not seen the mirror when she first walked in, Charlie craned her neck to stare at it in surprise. _So that’s where Dumbledore put it._

“Don’t feel too bad,” she said. “I’m sure Voldemort is used to your failure. I mean, you didn’t manage to kill me during the Quidditch match. And that whole troll incident was just a disaster.”

“Shut up,” snarled Quirrell.

Charlie refrained from flinching when he pointed his wand at her. Purposefully agitating him wasn’t the best idea, but she needed to keep him talking, keep him distracted. “How did he react?”

"He wasn't happy with me," he muttered. "But I won’t fail him again. I will get the Philosopher’s Stone for him.”

"How did you get involved with Voldemort in the first place?”

It was the question she hadn’t been able to answer herself. For a moment, it didn’t seem like Quirrell would tell her. Then he began to speak.

"I was ignorant and naïve when the Dark Lord found me. He helped me see that there is no such thing as good and evil. There is only power, and those who aren’t capable of it or perceiving it. I've served him faithfully." A strange look contorted across his face. “Though ever since I failed to steal the Philosopher’s Stone from Gringotts, he’s kept a closer eye on me.”

A shudder went down Charlie’s spine at that. Quirrell did not notice, for he turned back to the mirror and prowled about it. The raven-haired girl had a good idea of what he was seeing in the glass—him handing the Philosopher’s Stone over to Voldemort. But how could the Mirror of Erised be the last line of defense? How was it hiding the Stone?

Quirrell let out a loud, vicious curse that jolted Charlie from her thoughts. "How am I meant to get the Stone from this blasted thing? Master, please help me!"

Charlie furrowed her brow in confusion. _Master? Who is he talking to?_

" _You must use the girl."_

The raspy voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself, though his lips did not move. The blood suddenly froze in her veins. Quirrell flicked his wrist and Charlie’s limbs were freed. She lay on the ground, heart threatening to break out of her ribcage as she stared at Quirrell with apprehension. That voice…it had come from behind the turban, she was sure of it.

Quirrell waved her forward and she slowly stepped in front of the mirror. Instead of her parents appearing, it was only her reflection. The eleven-year-old girl in the mirror peered back at her, bright green eyes lit with wariness. Then there was a wink, one that lasted barely a second, and Charlie felt a weight form in the pocket of her robe.

_No way._

She didn’t know how this was possible but her heart sank slightly. Somehow, she was able to get the Stone where Quirrell could not. It would have been perfectly fine without her interference and now she very well might have made things worse.

_Too late now. Better find a way to talk yourself out of this one, Charlie._

"Well?" Quirrell snapped. "What do you see?"

“My parents.”

"Is that all?”

_“She knows. I will speak with her.”_

“Master—” started Quirrell.

" _Now.”_

Charlie knew what was about to happen as Quirrell started to unwrap his turban. She knew she should try to run, but her feet would not move. She stayed rock still, her throat dry and hands quivering at her sides. The purple material fell to the floor and Quirrell shifted, the back of his head exposed and facing the girl.

Red eyes locked with green.

"How?" she whispered.

"The night I failed to kill you reduced me to nothing more than vapour. I only have a form when someone is willing to lend me their heart and mind. Quirrell gave me his body and drank unicorn blood to keep me alive. He has been useful. But once I have the Elixir of Life, I will become whole again. The world will be reintroduced to Lord Voldemort. Now take the Stone out of your pocket and give it to me. Or you will be killed.”

“No!”

"So much like your parents," Voldemort whispered. "Brave until the very end. A shame you are not valuing your mother’s sacrifice.”

“She died so I could live! Both of them died to keep me safe, because they loved me.” And even if she had no memories of them, she would always know that much. It would always be more than enough. “There won’t be a return Lord Voldemort. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

She sprinted for the door and Voldemort shouted in rage, " _Don't let her escape!_ "

Quirrell caught up to her and grabbed her arm. A thousand bolts of pain exploded in her forehead and she cried out. Twisting her body, she grabbed his hand and tried to throw him off.

Quirrell wrenched his arm back with a yelp of pain. Charlie stumbled backwards, her head pounding furiously. She stared at the hand Quirrell cradled against his chest. It was red and blistering, as if he had been burned.

She tried make another break for it but Quirrell recovered quickly and tackled her to the ground. He wrapped his hands around her neck, but once again snatched them back. Gasping from Quirrell’s weight pressed against her chest, she caught sight of new burns staining his flesh. Her forehead screamed in agony and she felt like she was going to be sick.

"I can't touch her!"

" _Kill her then, you idiot!_ "

Quirrell removed his wand from the sleeve of his robe. His eyes left her for the second it took to unsheathe his wand and Charlie clamped her hands down on his face.

They were both screaming, pain and agony flowing through both of them. Charlie was certain her head was about to explode and her vision blurred. The last thing she heard before she fell unconscious was Voldemort’s howl of fury.

...

As Charlie’s confrontation with Quirrell began, Harry prowled the Entrance Hall, occasionally ducking into a hiding place to avoid running into any professors they had tried to convince of the peril the Stone was in. He particularly didn’t want to run into McGonagall or Pomfrey. He had sent off a school owl a while ago with a note for Dumbledore and was now waiting anxiously for his arrival.

“I really hope they'll be okay,” he whispered to himself, running his fingers through his brunette hair.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dumbledore strode through the front doors. Harry, who had been pacing in front of the Great Hall, whirled around. "Professor Dumbledore! They went after the Stone and Quirrell might kill them if you don't hurry and—"

"Calm down," Dumbledore ordered. He gripped Harry firmly by the shoulders. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

"Charlie, Hermione and Ron went after the Stone! We believe Quirrell is trying to steal it and they went to stop him.”

A sudden jolt of fear zapped through Harry and he gasped. Dumbledore held him upright. "What's the matter, Harry?"

"I feel really scared for some reason. I mean, I know my friends are in danger but...this feels really different."

Dumbledore knew instantly that the bond between Charlie and Harry was acting up once again. And if his suspicions were right, Harry would be in terrible pain very soon. "Go to Madam Pomfrey and stay there until I return, understood?"

He had never heard his Headmaster speak so gravely before. Harry obeyed and sped off for the infirmary. Dumbledore raced for the third-floor corridor and quickly sent off a Patronus to McGonagall to inform her of the situation. He encountered the limp body of Snape and sent off another Patronus to Pomfrey.

Dumbledore made it through the chambers with ease, especially considering most of them had been completed by Quirrell and the children. When he came upon the chess chamber, it was to see Hermione Granger applying basic first aid to Ronald Weasley.

Hermione jumped in shock upon seeing her Headmaster. He rushed over and quickly cleaned off the blood with a swipe of his wand, followed by a basic healing charm. Hermione pulled back her soiled handkerchief and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Keep applying pressure to the wound," Dumbledore ordered hurriedly. "Do not move him until I come back."

He rushed off and Hermione knew instantly that Charlie was in grave danger. Whimpering, Hermione tried to keep calm and focussed on Ron, who was breathing shallowly.

Dumbledore burst into the final chamber in time to see Quirrell pinning Charlie to the floor, the girl’s hands pressed tightly against his face. Her screams of pure pain sent a chill deep into his bones and he ran over, forcefully pulling Quirrell off his student.

Voldemort gave a roar and looked at Dumbledore with scathing hatred before disappearing into thin air. Quirrell slumped to the ground, his face raw and blistered, his eyes lifeless.

Charlie did not move. Dumbledore bent down next to Charlie and felt her pulse. Tremendous relief overtook him. She was alive, but just barely.

He reached into Charlie's pocket and removed the Philosopher’s Stone. "Brilliant," he whispered softly. A girl so young had not even considered using the Stone for her own gain. She wanted it so that she could ensure that it would be protected from those who wanted to use its power for horrible intentions.

"Unpredictable and as devious and clever as ever before," he muttered to himself. He had believed Snape’s suspicions that Quirrell was corrupt, but this? This was more than he could have imagined. He shook his head and conjured a stretcher, levitating Charlie onto it.

He exited the chamber and stepped gingerly over the troll. Albus then gave his wand another wave and assisted Ronald onto another stretcher. Hermione stood up and wiped her eyes. She gave both of her friends a frightened look and asked, "Will they be okay?"

"If we get them to Madam Pomfrey, they will be," Albus said gently. "Come along."

Hermione followed him through the connecting chambers. "Professor Dumbledore, what happened to Professor Quirrell?"

Knowing she used the title to be polite, Dumbledore gave a slight smile. "Quirrell will do nicely, Miss Granger. As for what has happened tonight, I'm sure Charlotte will tell you when she wakes up."

...

Hermione had been checked over by Pomfrey after Ron and Charlie were settled. Deemed to be in good health, she was given a Calming Draught to soothe her nerves and ordered back to her common room. Reluctant to leave her friends, she only complied when the medic-witch glared sternly at her.

Dumbledore had indeed been right—the agonizing pain Charlie had been put through in the chamber had been felt by Harry in the infirmary. Unable to determine the cause of his pain, a worried Pomfrey gave him Dreamless Sleep to put him in a deep slumber.

Harry woke up in time to see Hermione leaving. Frantic and bewildered, he hastily thanked Pomfrey and rushed out before he could be ordered to stay put. Ron woke up a day later, dazed and confused. Pomfrey excused him and Ron cast a worried glance at the prone form of Charlie before running off to find his friends.

Snape had woken up later that night. Furious that he had allowed himself to be caught off guard by Quirrell, he stalked off to give a report to Dumbledore, casting an unreadable glance at the unconscious eleven-year-old.

Finally, Charlie awoke three days later. Her green eyes fluttered open to meet twinkling blue ones. "Professor Dumbledore?" she asked softly.

"Good afternoon, Charlotte." Dumbledore smiled brightly at her. "How are you feeling?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "Fine, I think. Is the Philosopher’s Stone safe?"

"It's perfectly fine," Dumbledore assured her.

“What about Hermione, Ron and Harry? And Professor Snape? Are they okay?”

"Indeed they are. You need not worry."

Rubbing at her eyes, Charlie glanced at Dumbledore. “Where is the Stone now?”

"It has been destroyed."

Charlie blinked in surprise. "But what about Nicolas Flamel? And his wife?"

Dumbledore beamed at her. “You did your research properly, didn’t you?”

Charlie blushed. "Yes, sir." No need to tell him Hagrid had unwittingly given them a few clues. "If the Stone is destroyed, won’t they die?”

"Yes, but not right away. They have enough Elixir to ensure they say their proper goodbyes.”

Immense guilt crashed down on Charlie. “It’s not because I mucked everything up, is it?”

Surprised coloured Dumbledore’s features and he regarded the girl with concern. “Certainly not. They've agreed it's all for the best. They feel they’ve been alive long enough. I daresay they’re rather looking forward to it. It’ll be like a nap for them. Why would you think you, as you put it, mucked everything up?”

“The Stone was fine,” she muttered, feeling incredibly stupid. “They wouldn’t have been able to touch it. I put my friends in danger for nothing.”

“And yourself,” added Dumbledore, a bit firmly. “It was with the noblest of intentions. But yes, it would have been perfectly safe from the hands of Voldemort.”

Shooting him a wary glance, Charlie said, “Voldemort’s not going to stop until he finds a way to come back properly.”

“Voldemort is not truly alive and so he cannot be killed. He can be delayed from his return to power by those willing to fight against him, as you have proven.”

“There’s something I don’t understand. Why did Voldemort want to kill me in the first place? When I was a baby?”

It was a question Dumbledore had been expecting. But he could not give her the answer, not now, when she had survived a terrible ordeal. “I am afraid I will have to tell you when you are older.”

Charlie wasn’t happy by this, but gave a nod. “Well, what about Quirrell? What happened to him?”

“He is dead.”

Her face fell. “Was I the one who killed him?”

“Absolutely not,” said Dumbledore forcefully. “He had used so much of his life to sustain Voldemort, in turn with cursing himself with the unicorn blood he was drinking on Voldemort’s behalf. There was simply no more strength in him once Voldemort left.”

“I burned Quirrell when I touched him.”

"Your mother’s sacrifice left a mark on you, one that cannot be seen and one Voldemort cannot understand. It runs in your veins. Love lasts beyond death. Sharing Voldemort’s soul, Quirrell could not bear to be touched by you. It caused him, and Voldemort, nothing but agony.”

Charlie gave a weak smile. “They do say love conquers all evil.”

“They do,” said Dumbledore, and for a moment his voice turned serious. “It is important for us all to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.” Hesitating for a moment, Charlie ventured. “When I first encountered the Mirror of Erised I used my Invisibility Cloak. You didn’t seem all that surprised when you found us. Were you the one who gave it to me?”

“I borrowed it from your father, but I’m afraid I never got the chance to return it. But I know he wanted you to have it. It was tradition in his family, after all, for the Cloak to be passed down. He would be proud of how you are using it.”

This was said sincerely and Charlie’s cheeks coloured with pride and embarrassment. “When Quirrell tried to kill me during the Quidditch match—Professor Snape tried to save me. But he…um, he treats me…”

“Scornfully, resentfully, bitterly?”

“Uh-huh.”

"It is a simple reason, but terribly unfair, I'm afraid. It is because he hated your father. They detested each other.”

“Why did he try to save me, then?”

“No matter how he may view you, you are still a student, and it is the job of all professors to protect the students of this castle,” said Dumbledore. “But above that, he took it as a chance to settle his life debt.”

"Pardon?”

"James saved Professor Snape’s life.” Charlie stared at Dumbledore in shock and he chuckled at her reaction. "Strange, isn't it? But James’ hatred only went so far—he did not want his archenemy dead. Professor Snape, in turn, could not bear being in your father's debt. He never forgot it, and I think he wasn’t able to continue hating your father’s memory with a peaceful mind while it remained unfilled.” When Charlie fell silent, Dumbledore asked gently, “Do you have anymore questions?”

“No sir.” She was tired and her brain was having difficulty processing the information he had already given her. Reaching over, she grabbed a few Chocolate Frogs from the pile of sweets that had been left for her by well-wishers. “Would you like some?” she offered.

“I would love some. Did anyone send you lemon drops, by chance?”

...

Hagrid dropped by during her stay in the infirmary and blubbered an apology. Charlie quickly assured him that it wasn't his fault. She was the one who was close to tears a minute later when Hagrid gave her a leather-bound photo album. It contained magical pictures of her family, and her new friends.

Ron, Hermione and Harry came to visit her and they each exchanged stories from their perspectives during the great adventure. No one had an explanation for how Harry was able to feel Charlie’s pain, but before Hermione could get too carried away Ron firmly told her the answer could wait.

Soon the final day at Hogwarts arrived and they walked towards the Great Hall for the final feast and the awarding of the House Cup. To almost everyone's disappointment, Slytherin would be winning.

"This sucks," Ron muttered as he and his friends walked through the elegant doors. "I want to slap the smug looks off their faces."

"Be a good sport, Ron!" chided Hermione. "Even if they don't deserve it."

“They did earn it fair and square,” agreed Charlie. “Professor Snape didn’t give them _all_ of those points, after all.”

They separated and went to their respective House tables. Hermione and Charlie sat down at the end and cast a glance at the celebrating Slytherins, who were being rather obnoxious about their victory. “Next year,” sighed Charlie, taking a drink of pumpkin juice.

Dumbledore stood and raised his hands for silence. "Another year has come to an end. I hope your minds are full and bursting with knowledge. You'll have plenty of time to empty them over the summer holidays. Now to the task at hand; the House Cup!

"Here are the standings: Hufflepuff with four hundred and twelve, Gryffindor with four hundred and twenty-two, Ravenclaw with four hundred and forty-six, and Slytherin with four hundred and sixty."

As the Slytherins cheered, Hermione leaned towards Charlie and whispered, "Second place is not so bad."

But then Dumbledore raised his hands again for quiet. "But before the cup is awarded, I do believe there are some last-minute points to award due to recent events. First, Miss Hermione Granger, for staying cool even under dire stress, I award Ravenclaw House fifty points.”

Hermione's brown eyes widened in shock and her mouth opened, but no sound came out. With that one chunk of points, they were ahead of Slytherin. The Ravenclaws began to shriek with delight, but hastily went quiet at the simple look Dumbledore turned upon them.

"Second, Mr. Ronald Weasley, fifty points to Gryffindor House for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen!"

Ron's brothers patted him on the back and cheered loudly. Ron turned delighted eyes on his friends, who flashed him a thumbs-up.

"Third, Miss Charlotte Potter, for her nerve and outstanding courage, I award Ravenclaw House sixty points!"

Charlie grinned at Hermione. "You know, first place is even better than second place."

"Finally, Mr. Harry Lupin, I award Hufflepuff House fifty points for pure loyalty. It takes a true friend to be willing to face untold dangers in order to help those they love and care about.”

Harry blushed as his Housemates cheered for him.

"And with that, Ravenclaw wins the House Cup!”

The Ravenclaws erupted into cheers and whistled. Charlie and Hermione squealed with glee and hugged each other tightly. The silver and green decorations hanging from the ceiling were replaced by midnight blue and bronze ones. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were standing up and whooping. The Slytherins were gobsmacked—in mere seconds, they had been swiftly thrown to last place.

Filled with an intense warmth and joy, Charlie sprang to her feet and raced over to Ron, nearly tackling him in a hug. Ron stumbled back in surprise, but quickly returned the embrace. “This might be the best day ever,” she said.

"Nah, there will be better ones,” said Ron confidently. “You haven’t visited my place yet.”

Charlie peered over at the Hufflepuff table, where she discovered Hermione smothering Harry in a hug as well. She took Ron by the hand and led him over to the other two, where they had one big group hug.

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling tears prick at her eyes. “For sticking with me.”

“Always,” said Harry firmly, and Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

...

McGonagall surveyed the cheering students and shook her head. "Really. I can't believe she managed to survive."

“They're very brave students," Flitwick agreed proudly. "But I do hope they’ve exhausted their penchant for trouble. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if they continue to risk their lives.”

"Well, if _someone_ would have listened to the brats, then maybe they wouldn't have needed to,” muttered Snape grudgingly.

"Are you sticking up for them Severus?" McGonagall asked with a raised brow. Her expression, as well as those of other staff members at the High Table, held guilt and regret. McGonagall cursed herself for not listening to the children and knew that if something had happened to them, she would never have forgiven herself.

"Merely stating a fact,” said Snape simply.

"I can't believe it was Quirrell," Sprout muttered, shooting a glance at the lone, empty chair towards the end of the table. “He’s the last person I’d ever suspect of being a traitor.”

“Who would be your first?”

Sprout sent Snape a pointed look. “Certainly not you, if you think that’s what I was implying.”

“Do you know what I find hard to believe?” piped up Hooch. “That Lupin ran out on Poppy. Now that’s bravery.”

"Funny!" snapped Pomfrey, though her lips twitched in a smile.

“You know," Dumbledore mused, watching as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Charlie joined in a touching group embrace. "I don't see why they can't sit together tonight, after all they've been through. They certainly deserve it.”

"You realize in their attempts to save the Stone, which needed no rescuing in the first place, they broke several school rules,” said Snape in slight annoyance. “You’ve already given them points. You’re rewarding them further?”

"Yes."

Dumbledore raised his wand and gave it a little wave. The four children were lightly knocked back into the bench of the Hufflepuff table. Confused, they cast glances around the Great Hall in search for the one responsible and met Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes. Beaming smiles of appreciation, they promptly arranged themselves and dug into the feast, Charlie beside Ron, Ron beside Harry and Hermione on the Hufflepuff’s other side.

...

“Where are you going?”

Charlie halted in the entrance to their dorms, casting a glance over her shoulder. Hermione had stopped her second inventory of her trunk to look at her in confusion.

“I’m just popping out for a minute. I’ll be back.”

“Better hurry,” cautioned Hermione. “We’re going to be leaving for the train in ten minutes.”

She gave a nod and hurried out of her dorm. She descended the stairs of Ravenclaw Tower and into the corridors, where students were dragging trunks and pet carriers toward the entrance. Charlie filed past them and soon the crowd thinned out when she got closer to the dungeons.

_I can’t believe I’m doing this. He’s going to tear my head off._

But she couldn’t leave without speaking to Snape. He had saved her life, after all, and that deserved recognition of her gratitude. After Dumbledore had mentioned Snape’s rivalry with her father, she could understand why he had been treating her with such bitterness. She didn’t appreciate it, of course, but she wouldn’t pretend that the reasoning behind it didn’t make sense.

She paused outside the dungeon doors and took a quick breath. She’d survived a Voldemort-possessed Quirrell. She could do this.

The polite but firm knock on his door tore Snape from his reading. He moved to answer it, and who he found on the other side was not one of his Slytherins needing his assistance, as he had been expecting, but Charlotte Potter peering up at him.

“What do you want, Potter?” he snarled.

“I realized that I never said thanks, for saving my life.”

“You must have hit your head during your heroic endeavors,” Snape said with a sneer. “I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”

A small smile curled across her lips and Snape froze, the familiarity of it transporting him back, unbidden, to his childhood. “Quirrell tried to kill me during the Quidditch match. He might have succeeded if it weren’t for you.”

“You were aware Quirrell tried to kill you?”

“Not right away. But eventually, yes.”

A sardonic brow raising, Snape said, “You went after a man who you’d known previously to attempt to murder you. Perhaps you were meant for Gryffindor for your reckless need for showboating.”

“I’m probably not doing a very good job of being a Ravenclaw,” said Charlie lightly. “I should have left well enough alone. I knew Quirrell was getting the Stone for Vol—uh, You-Know-Who. I just had to do something. I wanted to know for myself that he wouldn’t come back, wouldn’t be able to kill anyone else.” A rueful frown formed on her face. “Though I suppose he did kill, in the end.”

“Quirrell is not deserving of anyone’s sympathy,” said Snape flatly.

“Maybe not. But I do feel sorry for him.” Flashing him a smile, she said, “Anyway, I better get going. I’ll have to catch the train soon. Thanks again, for saving my life. I won’t tell anyone.”

_Well, no one except for Harry, Ron and Hermione._

She kept this part to herself as she started down the dungeons. “Have a good summer, sir!” she called over her shoulder.

Snape watched her disappear, brow creased sharply as he regarded her. He had noticed, throughout the year, how she carried herself. No matter what he said nothing gained a rise from the girl. The only outbursts he received was when she was defending another student against his scorn.

Tactics that would work easily on James Potter were cast off her shoulders. She didn’t have a temper. She didn’t go out of her way to be disrespectful.

He flashed back towards the previous semester, when he had paired her with Draco and Pansy, and she had repaired Pansy’s damaged ingredients. Nobody helped Slytherins—they were too proud to ask for it and the others often refused to give it.

James Potter certainly wouldn’t have done so. Lily…Lily would have. She helped anyone in need.

Snape grit his teeth and slammed the door shut with a hard breath. If he dwelled on it, which he refused to do, he was hard-pressed to find similarities between Charlotte and James Potter, besides appearance and athletic prowess.

...

"Right then," Hermione said briskly as she and her friends departed the Hogwarts Express. "I expect to see an owl from you, Ron. Harry, if your uncle has an owl, I expect one from you as well.”

“I don’t have an owl,” said Charlie innocently.

“Very funny. You know very well how to mail a letter. We do live in the Muggle world, after all.”

“We’ll keep in touch,” promised Harry.

"Maybe you lot can come over during the summer holidays," Ron said eagerly. "I'll ask my mum and send you all letters."

"I can't wait to get our exam scores," Hermione said happily. "They come in the second weekend of August, right?”

“I’m trying not to think about it,” said Harry dryly.

“Well, there's my family," Ron said upon spotting his redheaded brood. "I wouldn't come over,” he cautioned. “Mum has been asking all about you guys. Best wait until you come visit, where you won’t be embarrassed in front of all these people.”

Charlie figured Ron had a point, though for an entirely different reason. She could see her aunt and uncle standing off towards the back of the commuter crowd, and knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep them waiting.

"I should be going, anyway. See you guys soon!”

They all embraced before hurrying to their respective relatives. Charlie lugged her trunk towards Vernon and Petunia, aware of the intense chores and severe lack of magic that loomed her way. Despite this, a bright smile crossed her features as she mentally began the summer countdown.

She couldn't _wait_ until next year.


End file.
